Currency of the Heart
by DominoFalling
Summary: A romantic story of a Patrician and a Princess, Pirates and a Portrait – and other stuff beginning with a P. PG13 for violence, language, implied torture and rampant sensuality.
1. Pirates

Terry Pratchett owns everything about the Discworld, I, a poor pretender, have merely in tribute borrowed his world in which to play in.  (And have not even attempted to emulate his extraordinary style).  No breach of copyright intended.

This is my first Discworld story, reviews very welcome.  Following feedback I have re-written the ending as it was too romantic - see, leaving reviews is valuable.  And while I was at it have tidied up some loose ends.  

Many thanks to Mercator and Merrymoll for their invaluable help.  And Beloved Fool - your hobbit eyed begging worked - I have written a sequel in which Havelock has trouble with some Werewolves - poor man, he is just not safe outside his palace.  And a big thank you to all my reviewers - we all need that warm cuddly feeling that sometime we've "done good" so thank you for taking the time to leave comments (I've turned that anonymous thingy off - didn't know what it was anyway - new here, don't know the ropes..help.)

This story unfolds over 7 chapters, roughly 51 pages in total - enjoy.

**1.  Pirates**

            "You promised me we'd be as rich as the King of Avor after that last ship, well we've barely made enough to re-stock at the next port!"  Stutter whinged, wiping the blood from his sword.  Having found a near empty treasure box on the merchant ship he was not happy and he had expressed his unhappiness on the now dead merchant.

Amarold Lockjaw, self styled Pirate King picked at what was left of his teeth, an idea was sparked by Stutter's remark.  "Avor, exactly who is the King of Avor, is he a real person?"

Heris Stutter slumped down at the table.  "Well yes, my cousin was talking about the King's daughter last Hogswatch, they are at school together.."  Lockjaw raised a doubtful eyebrow at his second in command, ".my cousin is on the wealthy, respectable side of the family.  Anyway, apparently the Princess doesn't want to inherit, just wants to write plays or something."

            "So the King of Avor has an unmarried daughter?  And is he really that rich?"

            "Avor's supposed to have the biggest diamond mines on the disc."

At the mention of so much wealth the pirate king's heart and ambitions quickened. "So has anyone invaded it lately?"  

            "And the best defended passes - it is a series of valleys up in the mountains between Borogravia and Klatchistan that would be impossible to take by arms."

            "Then perhaps we should take it by a different set of arms."

            "What are you going on about now?"

            "You are talking to the next King of Avor."

            "What?"  Stutter asked amazed.

            "You said the girl did not want to inherit - well, she can marry me and I'll inherit.  Then I will be the wealthiest man on the disc."

            "Ambition is one thing, but I don't think a young princess will want to marry a toothless pirate."  He eyed up the scarred wreck of a man before him, a life at sea and in constant battle had not added to Lockjaw's natural ugliness.

            "We'll do some research and I'll me buy some ivory teeth."

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Later, after much listening to wise men read to them; (it is amazing how well librarian's react to a sword at the throat and a match threatening their books).  Lockjaw summarised their new knowledge about Avor and its method of inheritance.  "So each generation the new heir has a Choosing, and only rulers and high-borns need apply.  And the Chosen One shares the throne with the heir if the old King dies, and how old is this King?"

            "Seven hundred and thirty three years, and in poor corporeal health."

            "And the Choosing is next spring."  Amarold Lockjaw smiled mirthlessly - not a pretty sight.  "Well, we need to find somewhere where we can invade from the sea and I can rule, I will then qualify for the Choosing - and lets make it easy for the dear girl to Choose, I think it should be a contest of one - just me."

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Mustrum Ridcully wound his super-delight dragon dry fly under the large half crystal ball he had recently acquired for the purpose as a magnifier.  Dibbler had told him it would be perfect for the job (then happily pocketed the profit from the sale of the of the broken crystal ball and patted himself on the back for ingeniously recycling a previously enjoyed item, then tried to think of someone to sell the second half to).  What none of the participants in this commerce knew was that the crystal ball was enchanted and had been supplied discreetly by the Pirate King.

When later Ridcully pricked his finger on the fly and suddenly felt very sleepy, the rest of the college joined him in a long yawn then decided to settle down for forty winks.  It would be the longest doze of their lives.

It was some days before anyone noticed that there were no wizards roaming the streets or drinking in the Mended Drum, and delivery drivers going into the University did not come out - magic had gone to sleep in Ankh-Morpork.


	2. Dungeons and Patricians

_As previously stated: Terry Pratchett owns everything about the Discworld, no breach of copyright intended._

**2.  Dungeons and Patricians******

The approach of nailed boots in the corridor.  The sound of struggles and a female voice protesting alerted the prisoner to expect visitors, he determined to exploit the situation - although in his present bound and gagged state exploiting it with anything more than his eyes - which were admittedly a power in themselves - would be an act of pure will.  The rats scattered as the door opened, the sudden light hurt his eyes.

"We've got a pretty witness for your execution Your Lordship." Said the guard struggling to hold a dark haired girl and a flaming torch.  The female referred to, exploited the guard's distraction to thrust her knee where his children would have no chance of being called bastards - because after that blow, he wouldn't have any children. The soldier doubled over dropping the torch and the girl grabbed for his sheathed sword, unfortunately her other guard was a lot more on the ball and bigger than Carrot, and grabbed her round the arms and waist, she kicked and struggle but the big man lifted her off he feet and threw her against a column, the sword toppled to the ground, retrieved by the big guard - who's companion was curled into a ball on the floor weeping.

The man strapped to the chair was very disappointed, he had been rooting for the girl to win, (despite the odds) and rescue him - but now in the flickering light of the torch she looked dazed, soft dark hair falling across her face obscuring the scowl of pure hatred she directed at the big guard.  The prisoner decided it would be a pretty face if it were not screwed into such venom and with a trickle of blood marring her temple.

"You're not much of a lady, and I hope you do refuse the Patrician - 'cos I will take great pleasure in showing you how a lady should behave."  The big guard threatened with very ungentlemanly hand gestures.

"My father will have you flailed alive for this, release me this instant."  The girl said firmly - a voice used to commanding obedience the bound man noted.

"The Patrician said we weren't to touch you, yet, but when we can I'll."

"Pavin, I need some ice Pavin, I can feel 'em beginning to swell."  His colleague whispered desperately from the floor.  

Reminded of his duty the senior soldier said.  "Right, the Patrician said you are to get to know our friend here, so that you'll 'appreciate the irony of his execution and learn the error of resistance'.  We'll be back tomorrow, and you had better be feeling more cooperative.."  With that open ended threat he scooped up his panting comrade and the fallen torch and made a swift exit.

The torch had ignited a few shards of straw, which was suddenly the only light in the room, the girl knelt and swiftly cleared a circle of straw round it and carefully fed the tiny flame until it gave a stable light.  He noted that her hands were bound with manacles and a length of over-dramatically large chain.

The girl turned to the bound man, her eyes widened.  "By the gods you're naked."  In all the furor he had forgotten his state of undress and the spectacle had also relieved his mind of the pain of his body - both sensations returned and he tried to suppress the dual urge to blush and the urge to mouth words round the metal gag in his mouth - the reality was that the grunts that he could make would be useless and he might as well save his dignity and try and communicate by other means.  The girl had turned her back and was doing something under her skirts.  Suddenly she flourished a flounced pink petticoat, the soft material felt like silk when she draped it across his lap to save his modesty.  Then she took something from her hair - in triumph she showed him a bent piece of thin metal - the complications of the female wardrobe would always overcome the male - whether it be financially or in this case, in the security of locks.  "Fellow prisoner, I've never picked a lock before, but we haven't got anything else to do tonight, so with your leave I will try and learn a new skill."  She took her first real look at him.  "You poor man, what have they been doing to you."  A rhetorical question even in the poor light from the impromptu fire the thin man looked battered in his bonds - he looked too slight to be enough of a threat to warrant the metal bands and brass locks that secured him immobile to the strange chair.  He desperately signaled with his eyes that his gag should be removed first - she may not know how to overcome locks, but he did and under his tutelage she would have a greater chance of success.

She understood, 'blessed girl' he thought as she began work on the lock at his cheek, and then he corrected himself, 'woman, definitely a woman' as the twin orbs of her perfect breasts in her tight bodice were thrust uncomfortable close to his eyes, and he could not turn his clamped head away, he should have closed his eyes, but the delightful cleavage was another distraction from the pain he was in, so he could not quite make himself not look as her breathing accentuated each perfect curve while she concentrated on freeing him - and he surprised himself with a licentious thought that he would also like to free her lovely chest.  How could he, in this dire situation of all times be thinking of sex?  Well today he had been very close to death and tomorrow the Reaper Man loomed even closer - by his nature, man's will to breed surfaces in such extremis, and despite his years of discipline and self-denial, he was still a man.

It seemed like an age, and in fact it was, an age of frustration for the girl - how could some locksmith make something so hard look so easy, and frustration for the man - how could the girl make something so easy look so hard!?  But he had to correct himself - he had been trained, he remembered the early days at the guild before he mastered the skill.  At least her perfume and the view were nice, but he had heard the mechanism in the lock giveaway so often and she had not - in the end he had resorted to grunting and.. click, the lock opened.  "Yess!!"  He was worried for a moment that in her excitement she might accidentally close it again, but no, she moved the metal out of the loop and very carefully pulled the metal out of his mouth.

            "Thank you."  He hardly recognised his voice.  He coughed to clear it.

            "There has to be some water here somewhere.."  She made to start looking around.

            "Forget water, just concentrate on keeping the fire alight so you can see, and undoing the bolts locking the bands in place.forget picking the locks, you do not have the skills for it."  He ordered.

She looked at him more closely - maybe he didn't need to be physically robust when he had such a tone of authority.  Her mind recovered from his almost superhuman command of the situation.  "Bolts, but what can I use as a spanner?"

            "The gap on your chains will fit snugly over the nut head, free my right hand first.  When this chair was designed they did not think about the prisoner being aided to escape."

She gave him a puzzled look.  "Very well, I will try.  We will run out of things to burn."  She had already made a pile of whatever came to hand to combust and the pile was getting smaller, it would be clothes next - and she did not want to end up as naked as the man.

            "Look behind the chair, under the seat, there will be. charcoal to burn there."  His voice broke, she was sure from more than the strain of being gagged for so long, but looking at his face he maintained a reserved countenance.  That was another odd thing, everything about him radiated confidence, he could be sitting on a throne rather than naked on a torturer's chair for all the calm dignity he portrayed.

She looked, and oh the Gods, there was a. she could not believe anyone could be so cruel.  There was a tray filled with charcoal bricks, unlit fortunately, and she realised the seat of the chair was made of metal to better transfer the heat when..  She bit down on her knuckle and tried not to follow the thought through of what would happen tomorrow if she did not release him and somehow escape from the dungeon.  

He heard the change in her breathing.  "What is it?"  He was concerned that she had stopped - they had so little time.

            "Nothing."  She grabbed the tray and pulled it out of its runners, it stuck a little so she tugged the wicked thing, and tugged until it came free, some of the charcoal spilling, she didn't care, the mere existence of the thing was an abomination.  It was heavy but she carried it to near the fire and made a heap of the charcoal, putting a few pieces on the fire to enhance the flames.  Then she took the tray to the wall behind the man and proceeded to beat it and kick it and until it no longer bore any resemblance to a tray then shoved it down the latrine hole.  He thought about remonstrating with her for wasting time, but.

Then she came back, hair messy, face white with rage and silently began the slow, painstaking process of undoing a quarter turn, taking the chain away, undoing a quarter turn, taking the chain away - in the tight recess that held the bolt under the chair arm.  He saw the bolt head moving and twisted his wrist to put tension on it - they really needed a screw driver to keep the bolt head in place, but with her chained wrists, she probably.  "Can you use the flat metal of the gag to stop the bolt from twisting?"  

She got up from where she had been crouching uncomfortably by the side of the chair, and stretching, reached for the metal and tried it in the groove of the bolt - it was a little to wide, she went to a stone flag and started rubbing the metal against it very hard and very fast.  She questioned him without looking up from her task. "Who are you, you must be someone important to warrant this kind of treatment?"

            "Oh, just one of the Lords of Ankh, I must have done some small service to the city to gain the pirate's attention."  For some inner reason that he hadn't quite identified he decided he didn't want to be identified to this girl.

She brought the metal back to the chair and tried it in the groove, not quite - she went back to grinding it.  "And your name?"

            "Havelock."

            "Mine's Silana, pleased to meet you Havelock."  She said graciously.

            "And you, you must be quite important to warrant this kind of treatment?"  He responded in kind, and saw the corners of her mouth turn up as she worked.

She came back to the chair and tried the metal again and gave a satisfied sigh when it fitted into the groove.  She then had to twist awkwardly, with her chained wrists to try and reach both the bolt head and the nut.  "My father is the King of Avor, but please don't call me Princess, I hate titles, call me Silana."

She looked up, smiling when he said, "In that case call me Havelock,"  For a moment their eyes met, blue on green, and they could have been anywhere on the Disc but in a dungeon.  Then Havelock realised that the light was fading.  "The fire, quickly."

Finally the nut became loose enough for her to twist off with just her fingers.  "One!"  She said holding it up in triumph, she moved to feed the fire before starting on the next bolt.  She grunted, this one was tighter, her fingers were tired, and she could not get it to move.  She sat back and shook her hands to get the circulation back in them and then tried again, "Move damn you!"  She grunted.  Havelock willed strength into her fingers, it was too tight a space for leverage and there was no way to use extra pressure on the chain-spanner.  She got up and walked round the cell in frustration.

            "Focus."  She told herself out loud, she had to succeed, for him to still be in that chair tomorrow when they came back was. she looked at him, so vulnerable, and was terrified for him, and terrified for herself because they would make her watch.

            "Rest your hands."  Havelock suggested calmly, "They are full of fatigue, try and find some water, I can hear dripping behind me."  

She held a metal cup to his lips and he drank thirstily until he remembered what the next stage of water consumption would be - he was naked, she was young, he would like to retain some dignity so he stopped drinking and made her drink.  "How are your hands?"  He asked when she put down the cup, he had seen that they were cut, and the manacles had bruised into her wrists, they were delicate fine boned hands, not at all suited to this task.

            "I wish I had workman's hands, then this would be a snip.  Or my father's hands, he used to be a boxer and he is a wonderful swordsman, he has the strongest hands I've ever seen, if he were here."  She laughed at herself.  "He would tell me Lany, if you haven't got the strength then use your brains, and if you haven't got the brains, well you're not my daughter."  She looked around.  "Right, what can I use - the claw end of the gag."  She grabbed it and crouching back down hooked it into a link of the chain, then she pressed its neighbor over the nut head, braced her feet and wrenched with her whole body and will and. it all slipped apart and the pent up force threw her backwards and he heard her skull hit the flagstones.  "Ow!  Ow!  Ow!  Ow!"  She crawled back on her hands and knees, grabbed the hook, got in position, while still repeating the word 'ow!' and braced herself to try again.

            "Is it helping saying 'Ow!' repeatedly?"  He asked as one repeat too many finally jangled his already stressed nerves, but he did not allow the irritation to reach his voice.

            "Yes.  Why, does it annoy you?"  She challenged, angry at everything in that cell at that moment.  For some reason she suddenly reminded him of Vimes - dogged and angry and not willing to even consider giving up - a good description of the Commander of the Watch - in that moment he decided he liked her.

            "No, if it helps please say it some more."

            "Good.  Ow!  Ow!"  She took a deep breath and pulled, and fell back again but this time managed to twist so her elbow took the impact rather than her skull.  "That hurt too.  Ow! Ow! Ow!"  And she rose for a third assault.  "I think I felt it give."

            "I do hope so."  He commented with infuriating calmness.  "You are twisting it the right way of course?"  He had slipped into Vimes baiting mode without realising it.  He berated himself, he really must take care of how much he angered her, he had no idea at what level her frustration quotient would break, without her sympathy he could be left in this chair..

            "Grrrr!"  She growled at him and pulled.  And it worked; the anger he had inspired gave her that little edge to finally move the thrice-damned bolt.  "Got you, you slimemole's pissel!"  She crowed in triumph as the metal finally gave into her greater mettle, and began the long slow job of twisting the nut free.

Finally both bolts removed, she had to pull the metal band which arced over his wrist up, it was still locked on the other side so only gave a little, and try to make space for Havelock's thin wrist to slide free.  Havelock did his best to help, and between them, finally.  "Yes!"  She jumped up and down and kissed him, then blushed and looked away shyly when she realised what she had done.

He ignored the gesture, or tried to, her hands on his shoulders had felt warm on his chilled skin, and her lips on his had felt like hot silk on his chilled soul.  "Have you that hair wire please?"  He asked, charmed by the colour rising in her cheeks.

            "Oh yes, here."  Silana passed one to him, more ebony hair tumbled sweetly down to frame her heart shaped face, he nodded his thanks and began work on the lock at his neck.  

Not a good angle, he could not see what he was doing so could only go by touch and sound but.  The lock sprang open.  She looked agape, in total surprise and then shook herself out of her stupor to help him remove the band from his throat.  "How, by the gods did you learn to do that?"

            "My tutor at the Guild said I must have been a locksmith, or a safe robber in a former life."  He commented dryly as he got to work on the lock at his waist, in much shorter time it sprang open.  She raised an eyebrow, trying to regain her sophistication, but openly impressed at his skill.  He tried to duck down out of the head clamp - it was tight but he did it.  He was then able to twist to start work on his left wrist.  In a matter of moments he had both hands free.  "Could you turn your back please."  He requested.

            "Why have you some secret..?"  She stopped when he indicated the pink petticoat that she had put across his lap earlier - somehow in the mutual battle to free him his nudity had become un-important but now..  Blushing even more she turned away and heard the sound of the garment being pulled over his body.

            "Safe to turn back now."  He said.  She saw that he now wore the petticoat and had arranged it around his waist and upper thighs and was working at the locks on his legs, the feminine flouncy material had a comic air to it even without it being arranged across the nethers of a man, she turned away again to hide her silent giggle - best to get it out of her system now, because when he stood up.. What next she wondered, they were in a locked room, she had been so focused on freeing him, she began to look for a way out.  He read her thoughts.  "There is a secret passageway off to my right, as soon as I am free I will show you."  

            "How do you know the palace so well?"  She asked, curious, all she knew about this man was that he was a Lord of Ankh and he had the most piercing blue eyes.

            "I have been a guest here before."

            "By guest, do you mean in these dungeons?"  He nodded his head while bent to the task of freeing his upper leg, where she noticed he had an old circular scar.

            "Are you a law breaker then?"  She suddenly thought, 'What if he is dangerous, and here for a reason?  But no.'  Her instincts told her he was not a criminal.

            "I rarely 'break' the laws of this city, but I have disagreed with those in charge before now - don't worry, you are quite safe from me."

            "Why are you the Patrician's prisoner?"

            "I was a little too independent of spirit for his liking."  He said dryly, being spare with information, as was his habit - information is power.  "I will need your help to reach my ankles please, it is not a good angle."  He observed.  She put her doubts aside and moved forward, Havelock pushed heavily on the chair arms and she helped him stand.  Silana felt him wobble on his feet, legs too long without full circulation she assumed; he was taller than she had expected.

She looked up into his face and was shocked at how pale he suddenly looked.  "How are we going to do this, you can barely stand."

She saw him mentally dismiss her comment about his physical weakness.  "I am a pragmatist, it needs to be done so it will be done.  I am not too great a weight, could you support me if I twist forward?"  She wasn't quite sure what he had in mind but she put her hands around his waist, feeling his cool taught muscles rippling under the skin - the feel of him was very distracting, she had never. and then he leant forward and she had to brace her legs to take his weight, he was heavier than he looked and she had to free one hand and grab onto the chair for support as he twisted forward with surprising alacrity to free his ankle.  Looking down she had a good view of his back in the firelight, it was marked with many wheels where he had been beaten, her heart went out to him - he had been so misused but was braving it out.  

She counted the time she held him in heartbeats, something about being this close to a near naked man was..  He straightened up.  "Thank you, I can manage alone now."  With a mixture of disappointment and gratitude she stepped back and watched Havelock free the last binding.  He straitened and started to work the circulation back into his limbs.  She couldn't help but smirk, his gyrations and the silk petticoat were just too comical.  He looked up at her when he heard the strange noise then back down at himself.  "I could take the garment off if you find it too comical."  He said in apparent seriousness.

At the threat she stifled her laughter.  "No, I am sorry, please.."  And she had to walk away from him because a part of her was saying, 'Yes, take it off.' and that wasn't a voice she wanted to listen to.  

He made short work of unlocking her manacles.  She busied herself for a moment re-arranging her hair with what pins she had left, she turned back to him looking less disheveled but she had a large smut mark on her nose that he resisted the urge to wipe away - she was so very young, and he hated to admit it, very attractive with her big green eyes, disheveled dress and smut marked nose.  'Come Havelock to the job at hand' he admonished himself at the uncharacteristic thought.

//\\//\\//\\//\\


	3. Windmills Tilted at

As previously stated: Terry Pratchett owns everything about the Discworld, no breach of copyright intended.

**3.  Windmills Tilted at, Virgins Rescued**

The device, which opened a section of the wall, was cunning, Havelock pushed it back into place and locked it once they were inside, he found matches and lit a torch and she saw that they were in a narrow passageway that must run between all the cells.  She whispered, following Havelock's stealth.  "Can you get access to every prisoner from here?"

He stood close and whispered into her ear.  "Partly - there is an older section that takes a different route - but the main detention section yes.  However I had not expected them to use the wine cellars to house prisoners."

            "Wine cellars?"  He indicated that they should begin moving.

            "Yes, the Watch and the palace guards have been locked in the cellar."

She whispered near his ear as she followed him, noting that he favoured one leg. "I bet that has turned into the party of the century."  He grunted in annoyance, but she continued.  "And we weren't invited."

They came to a narrow shaft with wooden slats making a ladder set into the wall, Silana followed the agile lord up the ladder while trying to keep her eyes off the petticoat/his long legs/his ahem, even in the dim light she saw far more than she had ever seen of a man before, but she had no head for heights so didn't dare look away or down.  At one point she did and froze in terror at the drop.  He had to come back down for her and talk her calmly into moving again, "Come on Silana, not far now."  He whispered as if to a frightened colt.  It took every ounce of her will to move one hand after another up the ladder.  Finally they came to a blank section of wall and Havelock pressed there and there and they climbed into a musty smelling chamber that had racks of weapons, and various supplies on every wall, a desk, bed and chair - an ornate screen sectioned off the end of the room.  

"You really do know this palace."  Silana whispered still shaking and noting that the only entrance was the one by which they had arrived. 

            "It is all right to speak normally here, the walls are well insulated."  Havelock looked up at the small shaft of sunlight that illuminated dancing dust motes in a bright column into the centre of chamber.  The strength of the light told him it was near noon, he would have to wait until nightfall.  "There is food and other supplies, please attend to your needs."  He directed her to the well-stocked shelves and cupboards while he lit candles.

He went behind a screen and she heard him pouring water and then the splashing as he washed.  Silana found water and poured two glasses then investigated the chance of a meal for them both.

She heard him shaving.  "Havelock, where are the medical supplies?"

            "Bottom of the fifth cupboard from the door, but if you wait until I have finished I have something better."  Puzzled at his comment she carried on investigating the supplies.  Eventually his voice changed as he came round the screen, she turned to find him, the disheveled ex-prisoner turned into a respectable early middle-aged man in a black robe - the change was quite dramatic, he looked very imposing.  Beard trimmed, hair combed back, somehow his eyes looked even bluer.

Silana resisted the urge to say 'Why Havelock, I didn't recognise you with your clothes on.'  But the thought made her giggle inside.

            "I am sorry to have delayed you, you need something for your hands."  He said limping towards another cupboard.

            "I think we should treat your injuries first."

            "Your hands first and then you can heal me."  He took down a large ornate box and indicated she should sit on the bed.  He put the box down next to her and pulled up the chair to sit opposite.  He took her hands in his; they were very dirty with charcoal dust.  "Best wash them first, there is soap and water behind that screen, then we'll see what needs attending to."  She got up and went behind the screen; he heard a squeal and dashed to her side.  "What?"  Finding no threat.

            "You let me walk around with huge this dirty mark on my face and didn't tell me!"  She admonished.  What a shame he thought, she had been without vanity until then, now she had demonstrated weakness of character.

Pragmatically he said.  "It was not essential to our survival that you had a clean nose."

            "You could have told me."

He decided to bait her.  "I thought it some kind of traditional face marking in Avor."

            "Grrrr."  She grabbed a washcloth and began scrubbing at her face with her sore hands.  He left her to her ablutions.

Ten minutes later she came back shiny, scrubbed and smelling of soap and sat on the bed, he finished what he was doing came and sat in front of her on the chair.  Opening the box he took out a jar, which glowed.  "Oh, what is it?"  She asked curiously.

            "Half of a potion, this cream is rubbed on the injury.."  He followed word with deed, taking her hand in his and with the utmost gentleness applied the cream sparingly to the cuts and bruises on her hands and wrists and then dabbed some on the cut at her temple.  The cream had a numbing effect on the pain but left the nerves with an odd heightened sensitivity.  ". and then this is broken to release the other half of the spell - by keeping the two elements separate the magic does not fade away."  He had indicated a tiny glass octagonal droplet that had swirling lights inside.  

Her face glowed with fascination.  "Could the cream help my head, where I hit it?"  He nodded.  "And my back where the guard threw me against the wall, and my elbow."  He stood up and looked at the back of her head, there was blood matted into the hair, he used a large dollop of cream to cover the area, he hadn't realised how badly she had hurt herself.  The dim light in the cell had hidden her injuries - no wonder she had complained so.  The scrape on her elbow was nasty, he applied cream.  Then realised something had made her freeze in place, she said.  "Ah, lets not worry about my back, I."

            "I've got a limited number of octodroplets so we need to apply the cream to all our injuries before we break it."  Looking at the blush on her cheeks he realised he was missing the point, she would have to disrobe.  "Come now, you only need remove your bodice, keep your shift on, you've seen enough of my nakedness today - I promise not to exploit the situation."  She turned her face away with the blush but reached round to undo the lacings at her back.  Seeing her poor hands struggling he sat next to her to unlace it for her - he suddenly realised how much tension there was in the room and it was building higher as each lace was undone.  He told himself to take a step back, yes she was attractive but he should have more important things on his mind.  But his mind had other ideas, the warmth of her skin, her breathing - he had never been as conscious of anyone's breathing before - at least not anyone he wasn't intending to kill - the scent of her.  He again had to tell himself to focus.  The laces undone he pushed the straps from her shoulders, shoulders as smooth as warm silk.  The bodice fell forward she wrapped her arms protectively round her chest, holding the soft cotton of her shift to her like a lifeline.  He unlaced the ribbon of her shift and each lace revealed the soft curve of her back but also a violent bruise stretching from below her shoulder across her spine and getting worse towards her hip.  Without comment he took up the cream and began to apply it, her skin felt as soft and sensual as his mind had wanted it to be, he began to wonder what it would be like to.. 'No, do not even begin to think like that'.  He admonished himself.  The bruise stretched under the material of her shift, he tried pushing it aside but.  "I'm sorry, you will have to let your shift fall, I can't.."

            "Don't worry about that part of the bruise."  She said very quietly.

            "Silana, the bruise is worse the further down it goes, you must let me treat it."

            "I.."  She looked over her shoulder, cheeks red with embarrassment, pleading, but he raised an eyebrow at her.  She abandoned her protest and let the shift drop but covered her breasts with her arms.  He pulled the material down revealing a perfectly curved hip and the top of her dimpled buttock.  Her hip must have taken the full force of the impact from the wall, the bruise was livid, he rubbed the cream into her soft flesh he realised, with shaking hands.  This was ridiculous, he was a trained assassin, he had ruled the greatest city on the disc for over a decade, but he was being made to shiver like a teenage boy by the sight and touch of this girl/woman's back - he really had to get out more.  He pulled himself together.  "Finished."

            "Thank you."  She pulled the shift back up and over her back, he left her to pull the ribbons closed.  "Now you."  She said getting up from the bed while trying to pull the dress back up.

He made her pause.  "Best to wait until we've used the octodroplet before getting fully dressed, if we have missed any injuries they'll make themselves known then."  He said sensibly, she paused for a second then dropped the dress, stepping out of it laid the heavy material on the end of the bed.  As she moved she passed between him and a candle and for a moment the shadow of her body was clearly outlined through the material of her shift, he looked away hurriedly but the voluptuous image had already burnt itself into his brain.  She took the jar from his frozen hand.

            "Start from the top?"  She asked.

            "Yes."  He brought himself back to reality.  "I have a bruise there."  He pointed; she applied cream to the left side of his head, ".and there." to the crown "And there.."

            "Is there any part of your head that isn't injured?"  She wondered out loud. "You certainly didn't go down without a fight."  He grunted in response.  She moved round to the front to treat the red mark where the head clamp had hurt his forehead, the bruise on his chin partly hidden by his beard, the cut on his cheek.  She kept catching his blue eyes as he watched her work.  He had such a dour expression that she didn't know whether to smile at him or not.  "Is this hurting?"  She asked to check the discomfort wasn't the reason for his look.

            "No, you are being very gentle."  He reassured.  She gave up and followed her natural instinct to smile at him, she liked him, they were out of danger, for now, why shouldn't she smile.  

She knelt down to better reach the mark on his neck.  The pale skin had actually been cut by the band that had restrained him; she gently pulled his collar aside.  "You must have struggled hard against those bindings, did you think you could break them?"

            "No, but sometimes, if there is a million to one chance, it is worth an attempt."  Their eyes met again, she felt her heart skip, 'pull yourself together', she admonished herself.  She looked back at his neck - that wasn't safe either, his pale skin had felt so good to touch and there was a pulse there, just under the skin, telling her he was very much alive.  Then she realised things were gong to get worse, he was going to have to remove his robe for her to treat his wounds.  Silana felt like running away - but she was made of sterner stuff.  'Pull yourself together girl.'  She moved her hands to open his top button; at the same time he closed his fingers round her forearms.

            "I need to remove your robe, I promise not to exploit the situation."  She mimicked his earlier remark.  Captured by his eyes and hands - and a part of her so wanted to be captured by him.

            "Your fingers.."  He said, for a moment she didn't understand, then she realised when he released her and began undoing the black buttons himself - he wasn't shy, just trying to save her sore hands.  She wasn't sure what was worse, watching his long fingers dance along the buttons, revealing the white shirt below, or the thought of what would come next.  She made herself take a mental step back, but it wasn't easy - there was something magnetic about this man.  He followed the upper buttons of his robe with the fastenings of his shirt, he started shrugging out of them both but she saw him wince with pain.

            "Let me."  She gently lifted the material and carefully slipped it over his shoulders, holding it away from his injured back, the skin of her hands occasionally touching his skin sent shivers through her.  She followed her hands with her eyes as each inch revealed more of his ivory pale skin and sadly more cuts and bruises.  He pulled his hands free of the material, which gathered at his waist leaving him partially clothed.  "Sword cut."  She observed two shallow slices on his right bicep.  "Left hander, I hate fighting lefties, the force always comes in wrong."

He didn't question her use of swords - she was royalty - of course she would have been taught to defend herself.  "At the Guild they tied whichever hand we favored behind our back and made us fight with the other - I achieved a fair level of proficiency."  He didn't add that the ones that didn't died.

            "I always feel like I am shaking hands with an elephant with a sword in my left hand."  She applied cream to the cuts and tried to ignore how his muscles felt under her fingers.  "You almost got out of the way of this one."  She observed at the shallowness of the wound.

            "Almost isn't good enough - on another occasion it could have been a poisoned blade."  He sounded angry with himself - one of the few times she had heard him express emotion.  She moved her attention to the mess his struggles had made of his wrists - all she could do was apply the cream liberally and gently and hope the magic would do its work.

            "How were your captured?"  He asked to distract himself from her tender touch.

            "I was on a ship coming back from school for my Choosing and we were attacked by 3 pirate ships.  We managed to fight off one, gave the second a run for her money, but the third."  She shook her head, he saw the pain of the memory in her eyes, and concluded how awful the battle must have been.  "They knew who I was, in fact capturing me seemed to be their main purpose in attacking - they brought me to Ankh-Morpork and presented me like a trophy to the Patrician."  She made herself apply cream to the wounds on his chest as a distraction from the memory, but the distraction of touching him was nearly too much distraction.

            "The new Patrician."  He corrected.

            "New?"

            "The previous one was very recently deposed."

            "Hence the city watch and palace guards being locked in the cellar - I thought the city was in particular disarray and the smell.." 

"That's normal."  He said.  He was glad she still hadn't realised who he was, somehow he just wanted to be Havelock with her - not the ex-ruler of the greatest city on the Disc.

            "Really, what is it?"  She looked at him in surprise.

            "Civic pride, the sign of a bustling economy."

            "It must put off visitors."

            "It gets worse in the summer."  He added dryly.

            "Worse?"  She asked unbelieving, he nodded.

            "This Choosing, I've heard it mentioned but don't know many details."  He remembered the intelligence reports; they were expecting all the highborn youth of the Disc to become the 'Jewell of Avor Exodus' come the spring for the Princess' Choosing.

            "As the Heir of Avor, on my 23rd birthday I must choose my partner to share the throne when I inherit."

            "Partner?"

            "More than a husband, the ruler of Avor has certain magical abilities, my partner and I would become a part of Avor if my father dies."

            "And is your father well?"

            "My father is 700 years old and the centuries have begun to weigh heavily, especially since my mother died.  I want him to live forever but.."  And she swallowed hard.

            "I am sorry, it cannot be easy for you.."  He surprised himself by empathizing out loud.

            "Especially as I do not want to inherit."  She pouted, for the first time looking less than regal.

            "Have you a choice?"

            "No, it's in my blood, wherever I am on the Disc the power will come and seek me out.  I am Avor and Avor is me."  She applied cream to the cut the restraining band had made across his stomach, the taught muscles so asked to be caressed, she had to fight very hard to be business like in her nursing.

            "Apart from losing your father why don't you want to inherit?"  He tried to concentrate on the conversation and not on how her fingers were exciting every nerve in his body, replacing pain with sensuality - control Havelock, control.

            "I.  I don't think I'll be very good at it, administering a country - it's a traditional kingdom, very old fashioned - all decisions are made by the monarch but the people are often resistant to change - I just find it so tedious."

            "I would see running a country as a challenge."  He said.  She looked at him; he had a faraway look and a sparkle in his eyes.

            "I'd much rather write plays."  

The remark brought him back, she seemed very young and naïve at that moment. "That does not seem a very practical ambition for a Princess."

            "Oh, I am very good at it, I had my first play performed when I was 14."  She said.  He thought that all too many people flatter royalty - a dangerous pastime because the flattered all too easily lose all perspective of themselves and their abilities.  "I write under a penname so no one knows it is me, promise you won't tell but I am Francis Shakepike.  My '14th Night' has been doing good business at Ankh-Morpork's Dysk Theatre for three months now."

Surprised he said.  "I've seen it."

            "Did you laugh?"  She asked.

He raised a 'get serious' eyebrow.  "I enjoyed the play, very witty."  It was an honest compliment, he had only gone to see what all the fuss was about and despite himself had been entertained.

            "Thank you."  The conversation had distracted her somewhat from the task of applying cream to the bruises and cuts on his chest and stomach - she was grateful not to have had to give his skin her full attention, the sensual touch was too challenging, she was happy that it was over.  "Now for your back."  She said moving round him and sitting on the bed, he turned so she could reach the damage.

He felt her touch but had lost the pleasure of looking at her; she was a fine distraction from the pain.  Her fingers traced across the whip marks across his shoulders, the cream leaving numbness as it bonded with the wounds.  She touched across his spine, down below his shoulder blades; the surcease from pain was a blessing.  Then across his ribs, gradually down his back, the stripes of pain slowly faded until she reached the top of his hip.  He heard her make a strange sound in her throat and he turned round.

The tear that slowly welled and fell down her pale cheek puzzled him.  "Why this sudden sadness?"  He asked.

            "Your pain."  She managed, she couldn't look at him.

            "But it is not your pain?" He wiped the tear away with his thumb, her cheek felt..

            "My heart tells me it is." Vetinari was strangely touched, he didn't remember anyone ever crying for him - from him yes - but not like this, in sympathy.

            "I thought princesses were cynical and aloof?"

            "I skipped those classes at school."  She tried to smile but the gesture could not hide her sadness.

            "The pain will be gone soon."

            "But they made you suffer so,"  She choked on the words.  ".that is what hurts my heart."

            "There are worse things in life, I survived, you helped me, I will triumph - I thank you for your tears but the wounds are nearly forgotten.  Come Silana, forget your empathy be pragmatic, we have a battle yet to win."  He encouraged, he could not bear weeping woman.  To her credit she straightened up and scuffed the next tear away with the back of her hand.

            "You are of course right, apologies, I was being a silly girl.  Your legs next."  She said and came and sat on the floor in front of him, ducking her head to spread cream on his ankle.

            "They hurt the bottom of my feet."  He stated matter-of-factly.  She looked up at him in shock and he could see more tears in her eyes. He reached for the jar, this was obviously too much for her.  "Let me, you don't have to do this - I can reach."

            "No, I must pull myself together."  And she lifted his foot and applied cream - this had the unfortunate side effect of as soon as the pain faded, ticklishness replaced it - for some reason the cream did not dull that reaction.  He was gritting his teeth, desperate not to react, she looked up.  "Blessed, what have I done?"  She thought she had hurt him from the look of agony on his face.

            "Ticklish."  He had to admit and did something he hadn't done in years, he giggled, panting for breath.

            "Oh."  She decided he had a very pleasant laugh - she had no idea that she was one of the very few to have heard it in nearly a decade and a half.  His mirth had distracted her from her sadness.  "I'll leave your other foot, you can do it."   And began treating his other ankle, bruises on both his shins and a nasty graze on his knee.  Then she remembered that he had had restraints on his upper thighs and finally had to admit that she had reached her limit.  "The rest is in your territory."  She blushed as she passed him the cream jar.

He gathered his clothing, thanked her with a nod and went behind the screen to treat the parts a patrician did not let his subjects see.  She was grateful for the respite of touching him, but the memory of the contact kept racing round in her head.  She had had a terrible urge to follow with kisses the lines her fingers traced on his body.

He eventually came back with his robe pulled back over his shoulders but not re-buttoned.  "Will you stand there please."  He indicated a place just in the stream of light let in from the roof.  She obeyed and he took one of the octodroplets from the case and stood on the other side of the shaft of light.  "Brace yourself, I am told the effects can be quite energetic."  At her nod he threw the glass to the floor and heard it smash, for a heartbeat nothing happened and then suddenly

More than octarine light coruscated out of the octodroplet.  The caged magic suddenly sprang forth untamed and latched onto its spell partner in the cream.  Suddenly Vetinari felt every inch of his skin, that had been touched by the cream, glow with a tingling energy, he shivered inside, somehow every nerve ending wanted to shrink away from the unnatural feeling.  But just as suddenly the tingling became a gentle warmth and it felt like his nerves were being smoothed and pampered, healed and caressed.  He heard Silana give a little yelp of surprise at the intensity of the feeling, the yelp turned into a sigh as a feeling of complete pleasure replaced the unsettling effects and the magic began to fade.  Vetinari felt completely invigorated - the spell had been very expensive but well worth it, all his hurts, even the deep ones were now but a memory.

He looked into the wide green eyes opposite him.  "I can see why some people become addicted to such things."  She commented breathlessly.  "That was extraordinary.  I am still tingling."  Indeed, she had a radiance about her that elevated her prettiness to beauty.  He looked hurriedly away before her enchantment became his.

Silana was surprised by the open expression on Havelock's face, since their first meeting he had rarely let his guard drop, but in that moment there seemed to be a lost longing in his eyes.  She felt both puzzled and sorry for him, he seemed always so in control of himself, so that when his guard did slip it was like suddenly seeing his naked soul - for an instant he had been vulnerable and approachable, but now he was back inside his turtle's shell.  But something had changed, the magic had given him a new vigor and he looked younger, the pain banished to leave a man radiating masculinity and controlled animal power all captured in his slim build.  She pushed those admiring thoughts away, now was not the time.

            "What next?"  The Princess asked.

            "Food, rest, weapons, and then, once it gets dark, a climb over the roof tops."  She blanched; she had no head for heights.

"You are not going to be able to take me with you, I'd slow you down."

"I...." He was about to break the news that he could not rescue her further when she interrupted him, saving him the ungallant speech. 

"It makes sense, alone you can get out and get help.  With me you would almost certainly be re-captured, and... that is unthinkable." The horrible images of what they had intended to do to him crawled unbidden into her head, she fought to banish the spectre of his suffering - she could not allow herself to be the cause of his recapture.  "Take my ring to my father, we are a martial race, he will raise a force to be reckoned with.'"

"I do not want Ankh-Morpork laid siege."

"There are easier ways than a frontal assault."  He was surprised that she echoed his own reasoning.  "How many days of food and water is there here do you think?"

"A week perhaps."

"Then I'll wait here a week, and maybe they will have forgotten me and I can sneak out of the palace."

"And if you are captured?"

"Ah, I would ask you do me a service, but it is rather embarrassing."

"You saved my life, I think I owe you an embarrassing favor."

"The new Patrician said that if I did not cooperate and marry him and let him bed me..." The words caught in her throat.  "...he, would give me to his men.  I defied him and he threw me into your dungeon,"

"Next time I do not think he will be so subtle."  Havelock commented.

A look of terror warred with embarrassment on the Princess' face.  She swallowed hard and confessed.  "I am a virgin Havelock, I.... so I need you to..." And she hesitated.

"You want me to kill you?"  As a trained assassin it was within his power, but the thought of ending this young vibrant creature appalled him.

Her sadness turned into a gentle laugh.  "No, I am a pragmatist too, I want you to mitigate the situation... I want you to make love to me.  I don't want my first... experience with a man to be... a thing of violence - if I can focus my mind on your... gentleness - I can survive the New Patricians'...attentions."  Her voice faltered and her eyes pleaded for acceptance, but....

"But I am too old for you, you are barely more than a child."

"I'm 22, and look around you, you are all I have got.  As a pragmatist, you have to admit it is a practical solution."

"But not an ideal solution."  Various people at various times in his life had tried to seduce him, he normally assumed the seduction was for reasons of status, his personal wealth or for political advantage but he had never expected to be seduced by a beautiful princess in the dungeon of his own palace.  He looked into her upturned face, green eyes pleading as her regal pride would never allow her to plead in words.

She had a good mind in addition to her physical attributes, and spirit - he couldn't deny that he found her attractive.  Plus, since his healing he felt brimming with directionless energy, and they were stuck here until nightfall.  But it would mean delaying Vimes' rescue and making the officer wait at the mercy of his captors for longer - well that was the final deciding factor; he reached out and took a very nervous Silana gently in his arms.

//\\//\\//\\//\\


	4. Werewolf and Watchman

As previously stated: Terry Pratchett owns everything about the Discworld, no breach of copyright intended.

**4.  Werewolf and Watchman**

Vimes glared at Vetinari as he entered his dungeon through a secret panel.  

"Ah, Vimes."  Vetinari said as if the officer of the Watch had just entered the Oblong Officer.

Not to be outdone, Vimes responded in kind.  "What the frup took you so long?"  He complained while the ex-Patrician, with amazing dexterity, picked the locks on his chains.

"I had to rescue a virgin."  Vetinari said matter-of-factly as he worked on the locks.

"From what?"

"Her virginity."  Vimes did a mental double take - had super aesthete Vetinari just said he allowed himself to be delayed in liberating Ankh-Morpork by a woman?  Coppers do tend to be confused by the truth as they so rarely hear it - but as Vetinari was still speaking Vimes filed the excuse away for later.  "We can reach Angua but Carrot is in the wine cellar with the rest of the Watch, we won't be able to reach him and still make our escape."

            "Best we take who we can."  Vimes hesitated.  "Any word on Sybil?"

"Not in the palace - so we must assume she and Sam are safe."  Vetinari lead the way out of the cell.

"How do you know so much about the situation in the dungeons?"  Vimes whispered.

            "You forget, my reciprocal policy with the rats."

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

In the secret corridor behind the dungeons, Vetinari gave Vimes clean clothes to wear.  The ex-patrician had considered offering the Watchman Silana's pink petticoat only, but despite the amusement it would have provided, decided he had already lost enough time to self-indulgencies.  Leaving the girl had been hard enough, seeing her sitting alone and naked with the bed clothes wrapped around her she had seemed far too vulnerable, but taking her with him would have been far too dangerous - they had both agreed that this was the only way forward - but kissing her goodbye had been harder than he would have imagined from so short an acquaintance.  "I'll send word, if you see a rat enter this chamber, ask questions first before you kill it."  He had given her a sword, which she had demonstrated she knew how to use.  "Once I find out if Leonard of Quirm is out of danger, I'll send you to his chamber in the attic, you will be safer there."  And he had stolen another kiss from the little time he had to make his escape - and cursed himself as a lovesick fool.

Vimes was hurriedly putting on the clothes, to his surprise the boots fit like a glove, he began to suspect Vetinari had made a contingency plan for just such an event.  "Where are the other Watchmen being held?"  Vimes whispered, bringing Vetinari back from his reverie.  

            "Angua is in the third cell to your left, they've put her in silver chains - the pirates must have had good intelligence to know of her. special abilities."  Vimes was now fully clothed, Vetinari handed him a sword belt, two knives and a crossbow.  Vimes strapped on the sword and secreted the other weapons, he nodded his readiness and they went to rescue Angua.

"Well it's about time!"  Angua said testily as they entered into her darkened cell.  Vetinari mused that he was so expected that when he arrived later than assumed he got a less than grateful reception.  He wondered just how upset they would be if he didn't come at all - as had so nearly been the case.

Vimes took up guard by the cell's door while Vetinari made short work of the locks that chained Angua to the wall.  "Where's Carrot and the rest of the Watch?"  She asked, rubbing the circulation back into her wrists - the silver had hurt and sapped her energy, it felt so good to be free.

            "They are locked in the cellars on the other side of the palace so we cannot rescue them yet."

            "Is there nothing we can do?"  Vetinari could see she was fighting to keep the emotion out of her voice.

            "Don't worry, the pirates are virtually ignoring them - especially as Carrot keeps arresting whoever enters their cell."  Angua smiled at her boyfriend's typical behaviour.  "And they are enjoying themselves drinking my stock of beer and wine - they'll be safe until I can arrange a rescue."  Vetinari assured.

            "I hope you are right."  Angua said quietly.  "I'm ready."  She stood up, the vigour coming back into her silver frozen limbs.

Following Vetinari they made their way through passages behind walls, through trap doors and at one point Angua was fascinated to see Vetinari having an apparent conversation with a rat.  Vimes whispered obscurely to her.  "Part of his spy network - like attracts like."

Eventually they reached the roof, and in darkness crept stealthily across.  Vimes was good, Angua was supernaturally good but Lord Vetinari just became one with the night, despatching guards with silent efficiency he lead the two Watch officers across the rooftops and eventually to safety via a secret tunnel.

Vimes' feet told him where he was in the city but his brain could not quite believe it.  They entered Mrs Palm's salon via a secret door.

            "Ah, Lord Vetinari, welcome.  I got your message, The Plan has been implemented."  The leader of the Seamstresses Guild rose smiling to greet them.  Vimes tried to cover his own surprise when Angua raised a disbelieving eyebrow.  "And Commander Vimes, Lady Sybil and your son are in the next room."  These words took such a weight off of the Watchman's heart - no longer torn between duty and family fealty.

            "Go to them Vimes."  Vetinari said nodding his understanding.  Vimes gave Angua's arm a reassuring squeeze and went to find Sybil.

            "Oh Sam, thank the gods you are safe."  Sybil enveloped him in warmth and love.  "Mrs Palm sent, I think she called them 'The Agony Aunts' to rescue us as soon as the pirates became a nuisance.  How are you, you look a little worse for wear?"

            "Fine dear, just a little scuffle of two."  He scooped up his son with the arm that wasn't holding his beloved wife and hugged them both, the most important things in his world held to him, now all he needed to do was make his city safe.

Later, after a rest and a shave, a seamstress showed Vimes into the basement of the building where he was astonished to find a copy of the Oblong office, with Vetinari sitting at the twin of his desk in the palace, including the basket with Wuffles sleeping aromatically on his back.  The only major difference was a large table with a topographical map of the city and on the wall a large map of the surrounding area.

            "Ah, Vimes, I need you to go on a diplomatic mission for me."  The Patrician stated without pre-amble, he directed his watchman to the chair opposite his desk.

            "Leave the city now?  Surely now it needs me most."

            "Not with your command held prisoner in the palace, plus now is a time of subtlety - the pirates number approximately two thousand men - enough to seriously damage the city if they choose.  They have six ships of war in the docks heavily guarded, all the city gates are manned by pirate guards, winning back the city is going to be a matter of strategy."

            "Why send me, I'm no good at diplomacy, you know that?"  Vimes said.

            "You do yourself a disservice, your mission to Überwald was quite successful.  Besides, you will be returning from Avor with an army and I want my most level headed man at the head of it."  The Patrician actually paying compliments, Vimes felt like scuffing his feet and saying 'aw shucks'.  "My main aim is not to have an all out war through the streets of Ankh-Morpork, if it came to that I would rather let the city's natural propensity for absorption dispel the pirate threat over time, however if we can save Ankh with as little bloodshed as possible then the best way would be to make the pirates want to leave and drive them into the sea."

            "And exactly how are we going to do that?"

            "Have you heard of the dreaded Plague of Skund?"

            "No."

            "Well nobody else will have until tomorrow when the first cases will be reported by the seamstresses guild - everyone will very soon want to leave the city, by the time you return with the army from Avor, the pirates should be more than willing to leave."

            "Why are the pirates here sir?"  Vimes asked.

            "They want the Princess of Avor."

            "And where is the Princess?"

            "Under my protection."

            "I know it sounds cold-blooded but couldn't we just give them the Princess and watch them leave."  Vimes said coolly, those bastards were in his city and he wanted them out as fast as possible.

            "Why Vimes, I am surprised at you, if that sentiment had come from anyone else.."

            "One girl's life against a city's, besides we might be able to rescue her later."

            "This girl deserves our protection."  And the look of unexpected passion in the Patrician's eyes told Vimes who the virgin had been that Vetinari had mentioned earlier - well, well the Assassin had a heart after all.  "I want you to take the Princess' ring to her father the King of Avor - he will supply you with an army, on your return surround the city but on no account come close enough to engage in combat - I want the threat to be enough - the city must be saved as whole as possible."  For once Vimes did not question Vetinari's orders.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Silana was woken in the morning by squeaking, as she reached for the sword she remembered Havelock's admonition to ask questions first and not kill the rodent immediately.

            "Yes?"

            "Follow me."  It spoke, the little brown body quivered, the whiskers shivered and the black eyes starred and the hairs stood up on the back of Silana's neck - talking rats, what next!

She dressed hurriedly in trousers and a tunic from Havelock's store of clothes, and strapping on the sword prepared to follow her skittering guide.  She had to force herself onto the ladder, god she hated heights, every time she fell-behind her four legged guide just stopped and waited.  They eventually came to a corridor hidden in the walls of the attic where the rat said traps lurked, the rat made her stop and went on ahead, eventually a white haired bearded man carefully walked the corridor.  "Ah, my dear, I am Leonard da Quirm, you will be my guest until all this unpleasantness blows over.  Now mind your step, this corridor can be quite dangerous."  He gently took her hand in his ink stained one.  "You have very fine bone structure, have you ever been painted?"

            "Not recently Mr Quirm."

            "Leonard, please.  Well, I think it is high time the bloom of your youth was captured for eternity on canvass."

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Vimes was finding out more about Ankh's secret places in the last 12 hours than he ever suspected existed.  A long twisting maze of a tunnel led under the basements of the city to outside the city walls.  Only he and Angua had left this way, with a map personally drawn by Vetinari with the admonition to destroy it as soon as they were out - if someone could use it as an exit route they could also use it to get in.  Outside the city they walked a mile to some woods in which they found stables attached to a quiet inn.  As soon as Vimes said the password nothing was too much trouble for the owner to serve them.  Horses and changes of horses were made ready. A packhorse to carry their gear, a map to find the castle of Avor and an armed escort, soon they were on their way.  Vimes stopped them on a rise above the city and looked back, he could see smoke rising from places where he knew it should not rise - the pirates were not being gentle with his city, he vowed to come back swiftly to heal her.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Drumknott reported secretly to Vetinari - the clerk had a nasty bruise on his temple and a black eye; he had had to make his forced cooperation with the pirates look convincing.  Vetinari's group of subversive clerks were putting the last touches to operation "Make them Want to Leave" Drumknott's intelligence from the palace was the last piece of the jigsaw.  Vetinari also used members of the seamstress's guild to gather information from their pirate clients and disseminate information throughout the city - the seamstresses could move more freely than any other group.

After putting more pins in the map of Ankh and agreeing their next move Drumknott was ready to leave.  "How is Leonard of Quirm?"  Vetinari asked casually.

            "We are sending him supplies as usual my lord, the pirates have no idea of his existence or location, he is quite safe."

            "Good."  Vetinari had decided to keep Silana's presence with Leonard a secret even from Drumknott, the clerk was too close to the pirates, they would use coercion on him if they suspected he knew anything about the girl.

The plague hit the city like a dust storm, no area was safe, there were no end of volunteer victims with nasty rashes to scare the invader pirates.  The planned for panic soon ensued.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Vimes and Angua's small party reached the gates of Avor, imposing stone-upon-stone structures set between the sheer sides of mountains and supporting huge metal gates.  They had felt a change of atmosphere the day before when they were in the foot hills, the guide had called it the Magic of Avor, Vimes had doubted it until he felt it himself, the very ground seemed to have the presence of a mind, the presence grew as they rode further up the verdant valley, spring flowers waving their jolly heads in the breeze.

At the gate Vimes' showed the Princess' ring and they were immediately waved through, one of the guards joining their party on horseback.  "This way your Grace."  Vimes had introduced himself with his full title, aware that being the Duke of Ankh could open doors.

Suddenly Vimes was aware that they were being shadowed, he looked to his left without appearing to, through the trees he caught a glimpse of something four footed.  "Angua?"

            "There are two of them sir, the pack cannot be far, I think they are just curious, their minds say we have part of Avor with us but are not of Avor - they must mean the Princess's ring."

            "Perceptive creatures."

            "I think the magic here may affect even the wolves."  Angua shivered.  "It is certainly making my nerves itch."

They eventually reached the snow line were given warm fur cloaks.  Vimes spotted a white eagle circling and remember that it was the symbol of Avor.  "Another escort?"  Angua nodded.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Leonard had made various pencil sketches; he seemed incapable of tiring of his subject, although Silana was finding sitting dull.  "Leonard, do you mind if I write while you draw, I have an idea for a play?"

            "As long as you can keep your head like that and in the light, of course you may."  He said with a flourish passing pencil and paper to her.  She held the paper against the wall so that Leonard could still draw her, and began to write.

After another hour he had to stop her.  "Time to go to canvass."  He said.  "I think I would like to paint you looking over your shoulder, stand here."  When involved in his art he lost his shy diffidence and was master of all he oversaw.  "But not in those drab clothes, here."  And he rummaged in a trunk and came up with a swathe of beautiful royal blue cloth.  "If we drape this around you like so."  Matching deed to word he put the material over Silana's shoulder and draped it across her hips.  "Come, take off these men's clothes."

            "But Leonard, I have no other clothes, I will be naked."

            "Princess, I am an artist, I do not see nakedness I see only the nudity of the tone of your skin which must be captured in oils, come, do not be coy, if I am to do justice to your beauty you must disrobe."  And for the second time that week Silana found herself clutching cloth to her chest.  This time is was the artist who arranged her limbs and the soft blue cloth against her skin, he unfussilly pulled the pins from her hair, laying the loosened locks over her shoulder and Silana could not help but think of Havelock, wishing it was his fingers caressing her skin and not the cool of the silk, she had been thinking of him every distracted hour since he had left her and every hour was an hour missing Havelock's touch, the sound of his voice, the blue of his eyes.

Leonard stood back and admired his model, black cascades of curls swept across her right shoulder, her left shoulder bare, the blue satin draped from right shoulder to hip leaving her back bare, muscles delicately defined under her skin.  "Now look over your left shoulder at me."  She did and she was perfect.  He began to outline her figure on the canvass.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\


	5. Wolves of Avor

As previously stated: Terry Pratchett owns everything about the Discworld, no breach of copyright intended.

**5.  The Wolves of Avor**

The castle was imposing, battlements built of white stone against the sparkling mountain snow.  The eagle flew in with them and circled as they dismounted inside the gate.  The wolves moved ahead into the building.  A tall good-looking man strode down the steps to them, he held out his hand, first to Vimes and then to Angua as he introduced himself.  "Welcome your Grace, Lady Angua, I am Lord Audice Pagett, General to the King Conari of Avor, if you would follow me."  

The eagle sped ahead of them through the corridors and as the doors to the great audience chamber were opened by guards, the eagle flew in through the first crack of the parting wood.  Vimes was not sure but he thought he saw the eagle alight on the throne but the next instance a man was seated there, so he doubted his eyes.  The man on the throne was surrounded by a guard of wolves who lolled on the steps and eyed the humans dispassionately.

            "My Liege, the mission from Ankh-Morpork."  Pagett bowed and so did Angua, while Vimes, who genetically hated monarchies gave a very brief nod of his head.

            "Thank you Audice, remain."

Vimes' first impression of the King was of a man of about 60, not too advanced in years but old in presence, and that presence at this moment seemed to be solid purely through the King's own will.  The Magic of Avor - the mind they had felt on their journey since entering this land was seated in front of them on the throne - Vimes was fascinated.  The King of Avor addressed them.  "You have something for me?"  

"Yes sir."  Vimes shook himself out of his stupor and scrabbling in his pocket placed the ring in the outstretched palm of Lord Pagett who walked forward and placed it in the hand of the King.  The monarch closed his hand and his eyes and for a moment his hand holding the ring glowed.  "She is safe, hidden in the palace, danger is all around, a usurper attempted to sit on the throne of Ankh, little remains of the throne or his dignity.  My daughter is under the protection of the true ruler of Ankh - who despite rumour to the contrary, is a good man."

Somehow Vimes felt embarrassed for Vetinari - the last thing the Patrician would want to be called would be 'a good man'.  The King chuckled, "My daughter now sits to have her portrait painted by the greatest artist on the Disc."  The old King's smile was enchanting - if his daughter took after him Vimes could see why Vetinari was under her spell.  "Trust Silana to find the best men to play with,"  The King shared the aside with his general.  

Pagett added "She will make a fine queen, once we rescue her Sire."  

The old King turned to Vimes.  "You wish an army to help liberate your city and my daughter?"  Vimes nodded.  "I will send with you the host and spirit of Avor.  Time is of the essence.  Lord Pagett give them whatever assistance they need and command my army to Ankh-Morpork, under the overall command of the Duke of Ankh - we do not want to be seen as additional invaders.  Now gentlemen, lady, I must rest."  And suddenly the old man just wasn't there.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

"I will send with you the host and spirit of Avor."  The old King had said.

            Vimes' temper was at boiling point, the king was sending him away empty handed.  They had come seeking help not only to rescue the Princess but to rescue his city, Vimes' city; Ankh-Morpork was being plundered by those bastard pirates.  He swore at himself for coming to a king for help.  Kings did not help; kings exploited those beings they considered lesser than themselves, which in their opinion meant everyone.  Vetinari had sent him, but it didn't mean he had had to come, but he had - he had refused to bow but inside he felt he had - because for the sake of his city he would bow, and genuflect and whatever else it took to win his city back - and what good had his journey and groveling done?  Vetinari had sent him to help save their city - he should have been back home with a sword in his hand, not in these faithless mountains with his hands empty of help.  He was going back to Ankh empty handed, apart from these pathetic few - that's what you get for trusting kings.

And then Angua pointed as something rose from the ground, grey with all the substance of swamp gas, it rose to man height, and sunlight shivered off of parts of a man shape, light just barely glinting off hints of armor and an insubstantial sword, the greyness seemed to pause for a moment and then floated towards their small party.  One of the wolves howled, then others took up the call.  Vimes' turned to Angua for answers.  "They are greeting him Commander, the wolves accept this as right, though myself I can feel only the cold of the earth about him." Then Vimes' attention was caught by another grey spectre rising from the earth.  

Lord Pagett rode up to them.  "This was the site of the battle of Kelar, the warriors are rising to our cause, they will forget their differences once I tell them they rise to rescue the Jewell of Avor, soon we will be many."

Vimes shivered down to his very bones, ghosts, what good were ghosts, and what the frup were they doing climbing out of their graves, they belonged in the earth.  He mouthed his fears.  "They are so insubstantial what good will they do but frightened old ladies and children?"

            "Give them time Your Grace, they will soon have the strength to wield weapons in this war, and better; to pass through whatever walls and barriers the holders of our Princess may put in our way."

Angua and Vimes road at the head of the army, Vimes kept having to look over his shoulder to confirm what his eyes had told him earlier; what had started out as a hundred miners, gentry and wolves was turning into a mass of angry, armed and fanged troops that recruited themselves the further down the valley they traveled.  The strangeness of the spirits made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, the spirits that rose from their graves as pale ghosts but were somehow gaining substance the longer they marched and he had already spoken to one in error, the creature had turned and smiled, the battle scars eerily black on his grey face - its eyes holding only more blackness.  The army was growing by the hour into a host great enough to rescue the Heir of Avor.  But Vetinari had demanded that they remain outside the city, the Patrician wanted as little damage to Ankh-Morpork as could be managed.  Vimes' knew some of what the Patrician planned, knowing the man's devious mind the rest would be cunning and well executed.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Silana woke early and took a peak at the portrait; Leonard had completed her face and shoulders and done some work outlining the detail of her back and the swathe of blue cloth.  Once the artist had started his brush had been true and swift, the result was quite amazing, somehow he had captured a half smile and expression in her eyes she did not know she possessed.  'Is this how others see me?' she asked herself, she thought not, sometimes she considered she looked pretty, in the right clothes and in the right light, but Leonard's depiction of her seemed an idealised image of her.  Still it was keeping them occupied while who knew what went on outside.  Yesterday there had been a loud commotion in the street, many voices, running, screaming - they could not see anything because they only had the skylights, Leonard had wanted to go onto the roof to investigate but Silana had persuaded him not to, they had no idea where the pirate guards were and she would not risk the artist for mere curiosity.

She went to the hatch where their supplies arrived, for the first time the box was empty.  She checked their supplies, some food but very little water, perhaps they should have checked on the disturbance, perhaps something drastic had happened.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Drumknott's most trusted assistant reported to Vetinari in the underground Oblong Office. "The pirates have closed the gates your Lordship, they are not letting anyone leave."  There had been a steady exodus ever since the plague had been first reported.  Unknown to the pirates the citizens were being shepherded to secret refuge encampments twenty miles away, set up by Vetinari's agents.

            "How many did we get out?"

            "About half the women, children and aged."

            "And those remaining?"

            "Are ready and able to fight sir."

            "Excellent, let's hope it does not come to that.  And the army from Avor?"

            "We've had a secret clacks signal, they are 2 hours away."

            "Good, I will go out to meet them."

            "Yes sir."

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Vimes kept expecting to see the city over every ridge, he had been shocked to see the streams of people on the road leaving the city until one of their escorts, recognising the Commander of the Watch at the head of the Avor army had come up to him.  

            "Commander Vimes sir,"  Old Peter Parsons, Sergeant retired of the Watch, saluted.  

            "Good to see you Parsons, everything under control."

            "Yes sir, orders from the Patrician to evacuate under excuse of plague, taking the non-combatants to the encampments in the hills, not to return until given the all clear sir."

            "Is there really plague in the city?"  Vimes asked in anguish.

            "No sir, lots of make-up, a bit of Dibbler's sausages slipped to the pirates to give 'em Aztec's Revenge.  The odd exhumed corpse, and those that died recently of course, being dragged round the city on the back of carts - we put on a good show for the pirates - they are deserting in droves - two ships have run off already."  Peters gave a black-toothed grin.

            "Well done Sergeant, carry on."  

As he was riding away he spotted the Universities Librarian on a cart with a boxes of books trying to move against the flow of the human tide.  Vimes rode over.  "Librarian, are you trying to go back to the University?"

            "Ook."  The simian said obviously upset.

            "For the time being the city is not safe, I suggest you go with Sergeant Parsons to the encampment until we get word that it is safe to return."  Vimes said gently to his sometime special Watch Officer, he waved Parsons over.

            "Ook."  With hand signals and lots more ooks the Librarian indicated that there was something very wrong at the University.

            "Right Librarian - first we are going to kick the pirates out, then once the city is free of the scum I'll send for you and we'll sort out the problem at the University, all right?"

            "Ook."  The Librarian seemed calmed.  Parsons started helping him turn the cart to go with the traffic.

Vimes rode back to Angua.  "Sir, Lord Pagett, I think I should, ah, join the wolves, if they are following my lead there is less chance of. over enthusiasm."

            "Good idea m'Lady."  Pagett said. 

Vimes nodded.  "If they go for their ships Angua, let them, I would prefer they were out of Ankh than we have a running battle in the city."

            "Understood sir."  And she dismounted and walked towards the largest group of wolves.

            "An extraordinary young lady."  Pagett commented.

            "We are very proud of Angua in the Watch, she is a fine officer."

            "And a fine looking woman."  The general commented.  Vimes almost made the comment that she was spoken for, but thought better of it, both Carrot and Angua were quite capable of looking after their own affairs - whatever they turned out to be.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Silana went to wake Leonard, she had let him sleep late but was becoming worried, he was normally up and insisting on starting work by now.

She got no answer when calling his name, she pulled back the covers and found he was very pale and sweating, she felt his forehead, hot, too hot.  She shook his shoulder and called his name - no response.  She poured some of their meagre water supply into a bowl and wetting a cloth put it on his forehead, hoping to cool him down.  Damn, why was everything falling apart at once?

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

A lone figure dressed in black holding a walking cane stood upon a small hill just outside the city, his stillness drew your eyes to him.  Trust Vetinari to make a dramatic entrance into the fray, thought Vimes.

Vetinari gave a slight bow as they rode up.  "Greetings Lord Pagett, thank you for coming to the aid of Ankh and Silana."  Pagett was a little taken aback that this man used his Princess' given name so casually, that's what you get from a republican, no respect.  Vetinari turned towards Vimes.  "Welcome back Commander, Sybil sends her regards."

            "Is she here?"

            "Refused to leave the city, but she is quite safe."  A page brought up a horse and the Patrician, despite his game leg, swung himself agilely into the saddle.  "Now, may I have an inspection of the troops then gentlemen it will be time to talk strategy."

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Leonard regained consciousness and Silana managed to get him to drink some water, he looked awful, so pale with dark circles under his eyes and complaining of stomach pains.  She knew she would have to take action if she was going to help him.  In Havelock's secret room was water and medicine, that would be of some help, and as a last resort perhaps if she diluted the cream and got Leonard to drink a little the magic might help cure what was wrong with him.  She got dressed, tied her hair up on top of her head and took up her sword.

            "Leonard, can you hear me?"  The weary eyes opened.  "I am going to get water and medicine, I will try and be as quick as I can."  He nodded, too weak to speak, she changed the cold compress one last time on his head and strapping on her sword went to creep with great trepidation through the booby traps in the corridor for the first time without a guide.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

They had set up a command tent and Vetinari was detailing to them the situation in the city.  "And gentlemen I believe if you encircle the city with the army, and we draw the pirate's attention to the hopelessness of the situation, they will choose to leave of their own accord.

Vimes heard a strange cry and Pagett hurried outside.  A white eagle was circling the encampments.  "It is a messenger from the King, the Princess is in trouble, something about illness."

            "Could the King be picking up on our ruse with the mock plague?"

            "No, whatever threatens the Princess is very real."

            "Damn."  Vetinari stood for a moment thinking.  "Lord Pagett, move your troops into position, the ghosts can pass through barriers yes?"  The general nodded.  "Have them move through the city, no fighting just scare the pirates towards the docks.  Angua, you and the wolves do the same, round up the pirates and scare them towards their ships.  Vimes with me, we storm the palace."

            "Just us?"  The commander asked in surprise.

            "Plus the Watch and Palace guards - who have all sobered up quite nicely now that the food supplies have stopped.  Come on man, we haven't got much time."  He rode off at a gallop towards the small woods where Vimes and Angua had a week ago got their mounts.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

            "I arrest you. oh, its you Commander Vimes."  Carrot dropped the stool he had been about to brain his commanding officer with.

            "Come on lads, we've got the palace to liberate."  He looked around for Vetinari but the assassin had already slipped away, he had said the Princess was somewhere in the attic, so was probably off to rescue her himself.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Vetinari came out onto the roof on the wing adjacent to where the pirates had chased Silana - how had she got there, it was nowhere near where Leonard resided?  Damn.

Vetinari could see Silana but he couldn't reach her, she was fencing with one pirate while another crept round behind her, she spotted the sneak attack and jumped back slashing the second attacker across the throat, he dropped and she managed to get her back against a wall.  Vetinari hated to admit it but there were too many attackers and by sheer force of numbers they would overcome the girl, no matter how good with a sword she was proving to be.  And then a man ran up with a crossbow and aimed it low.  He heard the challenge.  "Drop the sword Princess or we'll shoot you in the leg, you can still get married with a cross bow bolt in your leg, or your arm for that matter."  He saw Silana admit defeat and drop the sword.

Vetinari decided the only option was to leave her to be captured; he knew they would not kill her. She was the reason they had invaded Ankh-Morpork, they would not throw that away, he would let her be captured and then she could be rescued later.  Silana had backed as far from the pirates as she could then suddenly look at him as if an eight-sense hold told her he was there.  He saw her recognise the situation - accept for the second time that she was beyond rescue, and looking directly at Vetinari, gave him a grim agreeing nod, then stood to accept her capture without resistance.  For a few instances Patrician and Princess were in accord and then Vetinari saw her face change and her body language become that of a frightened terror struck child, this made Vetinari examine who was approaching her and he realised the four men were lead by the big guard who had threatened her in his dungeon, threatened to show her how a lady should behave, and now he could see by the pirate's gestures that it would not be a gentleman who was showing her this new way of etiquette.  Against his better judgment the ex-patrician gathered his resources and sprang across the gap between the two wings of the building.  He threw a dagger mid-flight and allowed his hindbrain, his hunter's brain to feel satisfaction at the cleanness of the kill.   He landed and rolled, making himself into a small fast target.  

The second dagger entered the second pirate's brain just as the man was deciding to move to attack.  The third pirate had the sense to aim his cross bow and fire, but the assassin was gone from the place in that instant of thought and was throwing a dagger, not such a clean kill, a gut wound but it would keep the bastard down.  And Vetinari was focused on the hulk who was now holding the struggling Silana as a shield.

            "Don't try anything or she is dead."  The burley man said, holding his sword to the desperate girl's throat.  He had her hands pinned but Vetinari was proud to see the Princess land some good kicks to the pirate's shins - she got cut for her troubles but she wasn't giving up.

The Vetinari decided to try negotiation, awaiting a change in the dynamic of the standoff.  "If you harm the Princess your boss will not be very happy, she is worth her weight in diamonds, literally."

            "Casualty of war, besides, if old Lockjaw marries her what's in it for me, I like the sea, don't want to live in no mountains."  He broke eye contact with Vetinari when Silana dealt him a particularly nasty kick to the knee.  "Stop that Princess or I won't have a chance to show you how a girly like you can have fun on a ship full of pirates for 6 months."  He leered, hoping it would both scare the girl and enrage Vetinari into making a mistake.  What the pirate could never realise was that he was dealing with a man who would always turn every mistake into a triumph - or at least Plan B.  Vetinari noted that the pirate was dragging Silana towards the very edge of the wall, when she stopped her struggles and froze Vetinari remembered she had no head for heights.  "Now that's better little one, so you fancy the idea of us all playing with your soft warm flesh do you? This one wasn't man enough for you was he, you want to feel what a real man feels like between your legs."  

Vetinari was trying very hard not to take this personally, but it was time to stop playing games.  "If you do not release the Princess immediately, I assure you of a death of timeless and excruciating pain, as laid down in the assassin's book of Infernal Agony."  He cited a non-existent tome - but one he would quite happily do the research for with this man.

            "If I let her go you'll kill me."  The pirate said angrily, shaking Silana like a child's toy.

With a voice as grim as The Reaper's, Vetinari gave the pirate his death sentence. "Quickly, cleanly, you will barely feel your life ebb away.  Harm her and I assure you of pain beyond your darkest nightmares."  Vetinari saw the look of terror widen the man's eyes.

            "Then we might as well both go."  The pirate suddenly dragged Silana up onto the small wall that surrounded the roof.   "That way you won't have the satisfaction of killing me, or the satisfaction of this soft, lithe..."  To add to the licentiousness of his threat the pirate lifted a lock of Silana's hair to his lips and mimed scenting her deeply.  By doing so he had a lesser grip on the girl.

Silana fought her terror of heights by concentrating on anything but this terrible muscle immobilizing height, she focused on Havelock - his touch - that if she survived this. Focused on her home, on the repulsive smell of the pirate - anything but the drop inches away from her toes.  She could feel her resolve begin to freeze and with it her body - it was now or never - break free of her terror or die.

Silana looked desperately and deeply into Vetinari's eyes, he could see a question there, he did not know what she was asking, all he could do was nod in acceptance, his acceptance that whatever she was about to do was right.  His heart, in the next few beats, nearly pounded out of his chest.

She swung her head back hard, he heard the crack of skull on skull and suddenly she was jumping off the roof.  _'Heart stay in my chest._'  Vetinari commanded as his assassin's trained instincts made him calculate her trajectory while he sprang forward drawing his sword to attack the pirate.  He 'watched' her fall with senses other than his eyes, heard the rustle of her clothes.  He brought his sword down in a mighty ark that would have split the pirate in two had the man not raised his own sword just in time.  Vetinari heard Silana's whispered prayer, heard her body impact against the opposite wall, gods she hadn't jumped far enough, heard her swear and struggle, heard her shoes scrabbling against the wall.  He thrust his sword, the man fought back with the desperation of the doomed.  Parry, thrust, parry, the pirate was very fast for such a big man, lightning fast with the sword but Vetinari was faster, thrust, parry, Vetinari, despite his emotional need to make the man suffer for what he had threatened, accepted the greater need of ensuring Silana was safe.  He ended it; Vetinari crouched and thrust the sword hard into the parts the pirate had threatened to use to 'teach' Silana.  Ignoring the man's screams, Vetinari turned as another pirate ran bellowing at him sword raised. Vetinari braced himself for the attack, and heard to his heart's relief Silana muttering "Ow!  Ow! Ow!"  If she was complaining she was alive.  He ran the man through and spared a glance in the girl's direction, she had achieved the safety of the opposite roof but she was lying prone and clutching her right forearm - safe for now but hurt.  Then a crossbow bolt whizzed past his ear and he had to admit that it was time to run.  He sprang across the gap as another bolt barely missed him and grabbed up the girl and dragged her to cover.

            "How badly is your arm hurt?"

            "I don't think it is broken but the cut is deep."  She said through gritted teeth.  He supported her and keeping low, half dragged, half ran with her to the doorway back into the roof.  He heard one of the pirates try the same jump as them and paused long enough so that the man was greeted by a dagger to the chest.

He half carried the girl to a roof door and kicked his way through it, thrusting his sword through the heart of the man standing on guard behind it.  He dragged her down a corridor and released a concealed door into a hidden passage.  "They've found their way into the passages Havelock, that's where they caught me, Leonard is sick I was trying to get to your secret room to get medicine, all I could do was climb up - god's I hate heights - we've got to help Leonard."  She was pale with shock, blood seeping through her fingers that gripped the wound on her arm.

            "I will once I know you are safe."  He moved a leaver and another door swung open into a tiny-cobwebbed cell; there were no footprints in the dust so he hoped no one had found this hiding place.  He pulled off his jacket and ripped off his shirtsleeve, cut it lengthwise with his sword and tied it round the gash in her arm.  He pulled it tight and held her arm, praying for the blood to stop pumping - it was nasty, she had caught a major blood vessel.  "No more sword fighting for you."  He said to lighten the mood.

"Yes I'm useless with my left hand." She looked up at him and despite the dim light he could see her smile.  "Thank you for coming back for me."

"Your father sent word that you were in trouble."

"Is he here?"  She asked surprised.

"He sent an eagle."

"Such a long way for him to come, he should be more careful, it takes too much strength."  She seemed to be rambling.

"Silana, I don't want to leave you alone again, do you think you can walk?"  She nodded.  "If we are attacked, you are to stand behind me, is that understood?"  She nodded again and with his help managed to stand.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Commander Sir Samuel Vimes, Duke of Ankh was enjoying himself.  Bruised and bloody he was using his street fighting skills to knock out, knock over and knock-off as many pirates as he could lay his hands on.  Captain Carrot beside him was doing the same.  He had heard the howling of wolves and the screaming of terrified men in the streets outside the palace so he assumed Angua and the ghostly hoard were doing their part in contributing to the departure of the pirates.  Wherever they found resistance Vimes sent in Detritus to break the group up into manageable mangled pieces and following the troll's assault up with their own screaming slashing attack - so far very effectively.

They were just following Detritus into another assault when Vimes heard voices behind him, he turned back to find Vetinari with a disheveled but pretty girl held against him.  Both looked exhausted.  Vimes moved quickly to help as the girl collapsed he lowered her gently to the floor and looked to the blood splattered Patrician.  "Sir Samuel, meet Princess Silana of Avor - the reason for all this."  The pale assassin leant against the wall, trying to get his breath back, then they heard running feet, damn, enemy to front and back - time to fight their way out.  

"Vetinari?"

"I've run out of daggers, don't suppose you.?"  Vimes handed his two over and the first two pirates fell with cold metal through their throats.  "Silana, rest here."  The girl gratefully leant against the wall, clutching her injured arm to her.  Patrician and Watchman stepped out to take on the oncoming force.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

In the city the scared invaders were running for their ships, dropping what booty they had stolen when wolves and spirits harried them into running faster than their hearts could beat.  Many died of terror or shock, and the wolves feasted, Angua tried to ignore the carnage, the animals were under strict instructions to only attack the pirates, so she couldn't really blame the hungry animals for following their instincts and filling their stomachs with the foe.

Apparently being struck by a ghostly sword was just as devastating as being struck by a real one, and many pirates did not run fast enough to out distance the angry phantoms who wanted revenge for the attack on their Heir.  The pirate's numbers were becoming less and less and they were far too terrified to be much of a threat as the ghostly and fanged Host of Avor harried them towards the docks.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

As Vimes and Vetinari finished off the last of their pirates they turned panting back to collect Silana, but found her stretch of wall empty, the fight in the next room was still raging so they assumed she had not gone there, then Vetinari remembered another of his secret passages had an entrance just next to where she had been sitting.  He opened the wall and Sam sprang inside - nothing.  Then Vetinari looked down and saw spots of blood on the floor, she must have loosened the bandage to give them a trail.  They followed it as swiftly as they could.

They came into a big music room to find old Father Ferry, with a knife at his throat performing the marriage ceremony with a bride who had a guard's hand over her mouth and was struggling and kicking and a groom that was nursing a stab wound to the arm - in fact the knife was still in there - well done Silana, Vetinari thought.  The wedding party turned as they entered the room and the man holding Silana immediately put a knife to her throat.  "Not this again!"  Vetinari said out loud.  Silana answered him 'yes' with her eyes and then indicated a slight upward movement of her head, Vetinari nodded agreement and Silana swiftly thrust her head back hard into her captor's nose.  The man dropped Silana and she had the sense to role away as Vimes and Vetinari sprang forward with their swords.  Father Ferry scrambled to Silana's side and helped the wounded girl stumble away.

"So, Lord Vetinari, we meet again."  Lockjaw said as he tried to parry the lightning fast thrust of the real Patrician's sword, he immediately realised he was in trouble and called out - another pirate rushed in and joined in the attack on Vetinari, who was hard pressed until he grabbed up a metal flute in his left hand and used it to parry the less able swordsman - those lessons at the Assassins Guild had paid off.  Silana thought about throwing something at the second attacker but was worried with her left hand she might hit Havelock, fortunately Havelock managed to trip the man and shoved him into the open piano, he rammed the lid down on his head and got him discordantly out of the action, fear came into Lockjaw's eyes when he realised Vetinari was back on the full attack.  

Vimes had come up against his match with a sword and was being hard pressed to best him so he resorted to throwing musical instruments trying to brain the man - the cacophony added an interesting air to the duel.  

            "Vetinari?"  Silana queried with the priest with name Lockjaw had used, the holy man nodded.  "But Vetinari is the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, is that Havelock?"

            "Havelock Vetinari, yes, he's our real Patrician."

            "But he's."  And everything she thought about the man she had met in the cell became very muddled with what she had heard about Lord Vetinari, the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork.  But it couldn't be her Havelock; Havelock was a good man, while Vetinari was. notorious and feared.

Suddenly Stutter came into the room with more men and started advancing on Vetinari.  Silana took up a fallen sword in her left hand and stood before him.  Vetinari, fighting for his own life, saw what she was doing and cursed the foolish girl.  "Put down the sword Silana, you can't fight with your left hand."  He ordered.

            "I am not being captured again, a forth time would be too embarrassing."  And as Stutter advanced she raised the sword, dodged to the left and threw it into the man's side, he was not quick enough to swing his own sword round and the blade buried itself in his liver, he screamed and fell.

Vimes fought like a demon, using furniture and every dirty trick he knew and finally he wore the bastard down enough to give him a nasty hamstring.  He turned to face five men advancing with swords.  'Frup!  What now?"  Vetinari was still under attack from Lockjaw and Silana was unarmed, damn, he grabbed up the piano stool and threw it at the men, catching one on the head, one down, four were better odds.  Suddenly he saw a head going sailing past him, Vetinari had slashed through the pirate king's neck, the re-instated Patrician turned to face the advancing men with Vimes.  Silana ran and picked up Lockjaw's dropped sword and stood shakily at the two exhausted men's side.  

Vetinari hissed out of the corner of his mouth.  "You'll get yourself killed."

            "I'd rather go down fighting than fail Avor."  At that moment a loud cry was heard and wings and broken glass were suddenly around them.  All looked up to see a huge white eagle strafe the attacking pirates who turned and fled the ungodly apparition, as soon as they were gone the bird circled,  "Thank you father."  Silana said as the eagle disappeared.

            "That was your father?"  Vetinari asked but got no answer as Silana, body exhausted of adrenaline collapsed into his arms.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

The pirates that were not destroyed by the wolves and wraiths of Avor were scrambling onto their ships, but when they came to try and untie their mooring lines they found the bollards guarded by snapping wolves, so they started cutting through the thick hawsers to free the ships to escape.

            "Fleeing pirates hear us."  Vimes' shout echoed across the quay, the men on the boats froze in their actions.  

Vetinari rode forward on a horse made skittish by the presence of so many eyes-forward predators, but he controlled the nervous beast masterfully.  His voice rang out.  "For the damage, hardship and death you have caused to the inhabitants of the great city of Ankh-Morpork I, Vetinari, Patrician, sentence you to imprisonment on your vessel and torture until you die."  The ice in his voice sent shivers down the spines of all who heard it, even those not due his wrath.

            "Men of the pirate fleet hear me."  Lord Pagett's voice rang out.  He sat astride his horse on other side of the dock.  "For inconveniencing the Heir of Avor, I Lord Pagett, general to the King of Avor, sentence you to sail the ocean in torment until you die."  He turned and nodded his permission to the phantom horde who swiftly ran up each ship's gangplank, others of their tribe freeing the now unguarded ropes, the ships began to drift away from the docks - the men on board crying out in fear as the ghosts harried them to raise sail.  Within twenty minutes the vessels were moving out to sea, the living cursed to be the victims of the Avor dead.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\


	6. Casualty of the Heart

As previously stated: Terry Pratchett owns everything about the Discworld, no breach of copyright intended.

**6.  Casualty of the Heart**

Vetinari had sent Silana directly to the Avorian embassy, along with his own doctor to have her wound treated - he didn't think it wise to risk a second session of magic healing.  Leonard had turned out to have accidentally consumed some of Dibbler's sausages on a pizza that should only have been served to the pirates - Silana, not liking the look of it had not eaten any, the doctors treated him and the artist was soon on the road to recovery.  

Vetinari tried to concentrate on the job of restoring Ankh-Morpork.  He visited the sites of the worst of the damage and was appalled at the mindless destructiveness of it.  All Ankh-Morpork inhabitants have been given the word not to resist the pirates until the resistance was truly ready in force and yet the pirates had gone on killing and looting sprees.  Although some of the areas destroyed had been in need of urban renewal, a lot of what was gone was just normal people going about their daily business.  The refuge encampments would have to stay occupied for a lot longer than was originally planned - they were lucky this winter had been mild or more would die from the cold.  

Vimes, when he saw the destruction, felt like weeping and wished every last one of the bastards had been on the end of a very long sword so he could turn it in their guts the way seeing the damage they had meted out to his city was turning in his own stomach.  He immediately put forward funds to help re-build, Vetinari and the other Lords of Ankh did the same.  Lord Pagett pledged help and funds from Avor and arranged the corporeal and non-four legged members of the Avorian army to assist with the rebuilding, the wolves made useful guards at the encampments.  Silana from her sickbed pledged further funds, she was all to aware that she was the reason for the invasion and felt a terrible guilt that she was the cause of many people's pain and suffering - the Princess determined to do everything she could to help, ordering in supplies at her own expense from the nearest cities and Avor.

And so the city stumbled back to its feet.

Something was definitely wrong at the Unseen University - no one had come out and everyone had stopped going in once they realised it was a one-way trip.  With the Librarian's help they concluded that the pirates had somehow put a sleep spell on the University.  The Librarian consulted books and did tests.  "Ook."  He concluded.

            "A sleep enchantment Sir."  Carrot translated for the Restore Ankh-Morpork Committee Meeting - Vetinari had delegated the nitty-gritty every day of the actual long-term reconstruction to the Lords, while he himself took control of the immediate needs of the city and its people.  The Patrician did not attend these long-term meetings.  (Vimes wondered if Silana's presence had anything to do with his absence - Silana asked the Watch Commander for news of Havelock - she had not seen him.)

            "Is it one of those traditional ones where the kiss of a prince will break the spell?"  Lord Rust asked.

            "Ook, ook."

Carrot nodded at the Librarian then translated.  "Possibly, but where are we going to find a prince brave enough to go into the University to find out?"

            "How about a Princess?"  Silana volunteered.

            "No."  The Duke of Ankh said instantly.

            "I have a certain amount of protection from magic, as the Heir of Avor."

            "There are no guarantees you won't be as trapped as everyone else that has gone in there."  Vimes gave the woman a hard stare - they had gone through enough to save her - not to let her get trapped in the damned University - why did they need the wizards anyway - the city was a lot less trouble without them?

            "Librarian?"  Silana asked their highest magical authority.

            "Ook."

            "The Librarian thinks a kiss from the Princess, a traditional cure for enchantments, would work."

            "You are absolutely sure?"  Vimes asked the simian angrily.

            "Ook."  He shrugged.

            "As sure as he can be."

            "Vetinari will personally kill me if this goes wrong."  Vimes muttered under his breath.

Silana heard him and whispered a reply.  "I think he has forgotten I exist so he is unlikely to notice if I really disappear."  She smiled to soften the bitter words.  Out loud, to the meeting she said.  "Let me try Commander, I need to do something to help and I assure you I have had previous experience with enchantments."

The meeting re-convened outside the entrance to the University - the Librarian made passes in the air and said "Ook."  The doorway opened.  Silana hefted her sword in her left hand, just in case, and walked through.  Thirty minutes later and Vimes was really starting to sweat, _'Why the hell had he listened to the girl?  Those damn green eyes asked you and you just had to say yes - enchantment - bloody girl had enchanted the whole bloody committee into letting her try this fool thing.'_  Then something changed, a wavering in the air and the stillness around the University changed to bustle and a cart came trundling out followed by a smiling Silana.  

            "Ook?"  The Librarian asked.

Carrot asked on the ape's behalf.  "How many did you have to kiss?"

            "Most of them."  Silana confessed, pulling a sucking lemons face.

            "Ook."  The Librarian chortled, loping off into the University.

Carrot translated grinning.  "Wait until I tell them they've been kissed by a beautiful princess and they won't even remember it!"  

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Vetinari received the Princess' message requesting a meeting, and informing him she was due to leave along with the wolf part of the Avorian army in the morning.  Both Silana and the wolves were dangerous guests to have around the city - Silana could not rule out other's interest in attempting to influencing her Choosing, so had determined to travel to Avor as soon as she was well.  She and Havelock had not seen each other since their final battle against the pirates in the music room, whether by chance or design - Havelock just never seemed to be where Silana was.  

Vetinari replied that she could attend him and in the evening Silana was shown into his private study.  Groomed and not the dishevelled girl prisoner, Silana looked stunningly beautiful but still with a delightful innocence that Vetinari couldn't help but find enchanting.

            "Welcome Princess."  He said gallantly, bowing slightly.

            "I think that should be 'Welcome Fool'"  She raised a self-depreciating eyebrow to him.

            "How so?"

            "It took a priest to tell me who you were, I've seen your face on coins, but still I did not realise that my time in the dungeons was spent with the creator of those coins."

            "Out of context we all take on a different mien."  He justified her lack of recognition - he didn't also add that she was young and not worldly wise, so was unlikely to recognise such a poor wretch as he had been in that cell as the ruler of his great city. 

            "But you are the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, you are legend."  

            "I am a man."  He corrected, he wanted her to think of him as Havelock, not as everyone else thought of him, as the bogeyman's bogeyman.

She looked down at her hands.  "Havelock, you were a prisoner in your own dungeon, I can understand now how you engineered our escape, but that means that that monstrous chair you were strapped to belonged to you, I. how could you let such.."

            "The pirates brought it with them, my preferred threat is the scorpion pit - at least in there, there is a sporting chance of survival, and if not the end comes quickly."

She looked doubtfully into his eyes.  "If it was not yours then how did you know my chains would fit the bolts?"

            "There are only three manufactures of torture equipment on the Disc, all use a standard size of bolt, I therefore had all my chains manufactured to that size.  Never own a dungeon that you don't have a key to - that is my policy, and as I said, our sojourn together was not the first time I have been a guest in my dungeon."

            "Surely other prisoners must have realised?"

            "Not so far, and if they do, perhaps they do not belong in my dungeon.  Brandy?"  He offered, wanting to step down the intensity of their conversation, she would be gone tomorrow, he wanted some time to get to know her without their lives being under threat - extreme situations tend to bring out extreme behaviour, he wanted to know who Silana really was.

            "Yes please."  While he poured she wandered into his adjacent office and was surprised to find the portrait that Leonard had now finished painting.  "You have it behind your desk?"

            "I found it too distracting in front of it."  She took the comment as a compliment, he offered her the glass.

            "Leonard has a way with teeth doesn't he, they say the Mona Ogg's teeth follow you round the room."  She commented.

            "I think, on this occasion, it is the eyes that follow one."  He looked at her so intently that she had to look away, the safest place to look was the portrait.  Both for a moment stared at Leonard's masterpiece, then Vetinari decided he would much rather be looking at the subject, while he still had her here.

            "Do you like music?"  He asked to fill the silence, admiring her profile, he realised he made her uncomfortable by starring at her, but he couldn't quite stop looking, after tonight he would probably never look on her again.

She turned back to him.  "Yes, do you play?"

            "In my youth, now I prefer to read the music, I think it is the purest way to appreciate what the composer intended."

            "But a solitary appreciation - have you a piano unbroken in the palace?"

"Yes."  He could not help but smile at her reference to their last battle with the pirates.  

            "Could I play you something?"  She asked, he hesitated; he would be polite if she wasn't very good, but did he want to risk having a devalued memory of her if she had an over inflated opinion of her own musical talents?  Looking at her eager face he decided to take the risk.

            "The piano in the ballroom has recently been tuned, I hope it will suit you."  He led the way, pausing to explain the portraits in the long corridors when she asked - Silana took an interest in not only the historical significance of the Kings and rulers of Ankh but the artists themselves.

            "How is Leonard now?  I so enjoyed my time with him, it was almost worth being captured just to meet him, but such a dangerous mind."

            "I'm glad you appreciated him and my reasons for keeping him confined.  He is well."

            "An innocent to destructive nature of man and the real world."  She gave out a little laugh of joy when she saw the piano and hurried towards it.  Somehow Vetinari took pleasure in those little moments of youthful appreciation, so many of the people he spent time with were jaded beyond redemption, the very air they breathed out seemed to reek of boredom (and reeking of anything but the Ankh was tough in this town) but Silana was the antithesis of their world-weariness, Havelock found it lifted his own appreciation of the things around him, she gave life a new light.

            "It's a Glassway - it could be a brother to the one I learnt on."  She ran her fingers gently along the inlaid wood and smiled up at him.  "May I play for you?"  Vetinari nodded and he pulled a chair to sit a little way from the instrument.  Even if she were appalling at least he would have the pleasure of looking at her while she played.  She opened the cover over the keys and ran her fingers through a scale, then smiled to herself that her injured arm would still let her play and made herself comfortable on the stool and arranged her feet on the pedals.  "This is based on a traditional Avor folk song and I think it captures some of the spirit of my country."  She spread her fingers and Vetinari braced himself for the worst.

He was transported to mountain passes, winds that blew sagas of snow through forgotten trees, sun beating white against snow unfrozen for centuries, white landscapes, endless blue skies and the struggle between nature and man and beast for survival - and then the mood of the music changed and he was made to think of Spring, of ice surrendering to the sun's warm caress to birth tinkling mountain streams, of long winter nights giving themselves to light spring mornings, colour returning to the black and white world with bright spring flowers pushing their brave delicate heads up towards the sun's warm embrace even before the snows had melted.  Vetinari's reverie was interrupted by a servant walking into the ballroom, the servant froze when he saw who was there and began shuffling away, Vetinari indicated that he should stay, then returned his full attention to the musician and the music - both were delightful.

Then the joy of summer, gentle winds, animals taking their first steps outside the sheltering cave, the smiles of suntanned faces, crops worshipping the sun, herds of yok roaming free in the verdant landscape, and then, to Vetinari's vast disappointment, the music stopped.  The servant gently applauded until Vetinari gave him a stern look.  "Please continue, I apologise of the interruption."  The Patrician said.

Silana turned to him, smiling.  "I am sorry, there isn't any more."

            "Why, did the composer die?"

She smiled, "No I haven't written it yet."

            "That was yours?"  He asked in honest astonishment.

            "My teachers used to tell me off for not keeping to the accepted forms of composition, they despaired of me and called me headstrong, so I do not very often play for other people, in case they find my music wanting, but I thought you might like to hear something different."

            "I think your teachers are very much mistaken and could be educated by you, that was quite beautiful."  He smiled his quick smile - and nearly said more, but - -.  "Will you send the score to me when it is finished?"

            "Would you really like to have it?"  She asked, surprised by his enthusiasm.

            "You have a perception and talent that is quite astonishing in one so young."  He rose to stand by the piano, noticing her blush.  "Have you other compositions?"

            "A few, but won't you play for me Havelock?"  

For a moment he was non-plussed, of course he could not play for her, he was the Patrician, how would it look.  "I am sorry, but I have an air of menace to maintain, and my poor unpractised efforts would be very lacking against the beauty of your music."

            "Oh,"  And she sounded disappointed, but accepted with good grace.  "What would like to hear, I have a polka, or some songs based on folk tunes, or something purely of my own making?"  While she spoke her fingers danced over the keys playing the first few bars of the music she was mentioning, from memory to hands to music seemed to happen without effort, Vetinari was happily surprised to actually be enjoying music that was not direct from the printed page.

            "Your own composition."

            "Very well, it has no title, but is mostly finished, sometimes I think there is an element missing but no matter how hard I try I cannot find it, but, well, best to listen."  Vetinari returned to his seat, and was again transported, not into a world of nature but into thought and emotion - quite different themes this time - but non-the-less enchanting.  Again he was sad when the music finished and she looked expectantly up at him.

            "Wonderful, but I do see what you mean, towards the middle movement, something indefinable."  And he finally knew why she didn't want to rule, she had so much creativity to give the world, in her plays and music, and all that would be swept aside by the mundanety of governing a country, which she loved, but for which her talents were unsuited, he felt sympathy for her dilemma - condemned to an inescapable fate.

            "Yes, but I, well - someday it will come to me."  Her fingers played little nothings over the keys for a few moments and the clock struck the hour.  She looked up.  "It is late so soon?  Time I returned to the embassy, we have an early start tomorrow."  She looked disappointed.

            "Your cloak is in my study, I can send someone to fetch it?"

            "No, if we walk there we can have a little more time together."

            "Is that important to you?"

            "Yes, I greatly enjoy your company Havelock, and will miss you when I go home."  And there was some inner longing about her eyes when she looked at him that he wanted to answer but knew he could not, he needed to think of his city, his need for Silana would pass but Ankh-Morpork's need for it's Patrician would not.

They walked in silence, both lost in their own thoughts of loss.  Silana started to speak twice but stopped herself, if Havelock had not expressed any feelings for her by now then he was not going to, their time of intimacy together had been at her request, he had performed as desired, and despite his then passion and the tenderness of his kisses, they were no longer those people in that desperate situation.  They were now Princess and Patrician and both had responsibilities that they must fulfil.  Since they had regained their freedom Havelock had not expressed any feelings for her, she would have to forget her hopes - they were strangers who had met, loved and were now strangers once again - best to leave with grace.

He allowed himself to lift the cloak and place it round her shoulders, to touch her for one last time.  Her perfume filled his senses and he tried to store her presence in his mind, so that some part of her would be with him in his dark lonely nights.

"I know there is no gift that I could give you to match the wealth of Avor but I wanted to express my thanks in person for your help in saving my life and restoring my city, and say that if you ever need advice with your rule in Avor, you will always have a friend in Ankh-Morpork."

"And thank you for saving my life."  She replied.

He raised an eyebrow.  "Surely not your life?"

"Yes, for I could never give Avor to such a man as Lockjaw, and to give myself would have been to give Avor - I could not have betrayed my country so.  I would have had to choose death.  So you did indeed save my life."  She smiled shyly up at him and said dryly.  "And if you ever would like a holiday away from the aroma of the Ankh then I would greatly enjoy showing you the mountains and valleys of my country - and if you ever need a friend, you have a friend in Avor."  She said this knowing he would never take a holiday and knowing he would probably not need her friendship - but diplomacy was diplomacy.

He took her hand and gently kissed it, their eyes met as he rose.  "Goodbye Havelock."  She felt her throat tighten and knew she would have to flee - there was so much more she wanted to say, but knew he did not want it said - best to go with dignity now before her heart broke in front of him.

            "Goodbye Silana."  And she had turned and was gone.  Lingering in his mind was the vision of a dark haired girl; unshed tears in her green eyes.

//\\//\\//\\//\\


	7. The King of Avor

As previously stated: Terry Pratchett owns everything about the Discworld, no breach of copyright intended.

**7.  The King of Avor**

Silana and the King, her father, were sitting in their private chambers discussing the future rule of Avor.

"He has one of the best minds on the Disc, why shouldn't we buy the best to run our country?"  She half mused out loud, doing her best to sound dispassionate and practical.

            "But he is too old for you."  The King objected.

            "Not so very old father, 20 years or so, and as King he would have access to the same longevity as you, in a short time our ages would not matter."

            "In my mind's eye I saw you married to some dashing young prince whom you could love."

            "I was dreading the Choosing, if I chose badly I could be married to some idiot whom I would quickly learn to hate. I never really thought I would have the luxury of loving the man I married father, not hating was all I hoped for."

            "And do you love this Havelock Vetinari?  Everyone says what a cold man he is - I would not condemn you to such a life."

            "I am fond of him, I respect him, he is very reserved and I can see why others would call him cold, but.."

            "But you got to know each other quite well in that dungeon - but he dismissed you when you were both free."

            "I was a distraction from his beloved city, however, if he rules Avor.."

            ".and Avor is you.."  He said, she smiled up at him.

            "Father, I want Havelock, and I want Havelock to want me - or if not me, to want Avor - not for its wealth, he has wealth enough - but for the challenge of ruling a country.  You should have seen the way his eyes shone when he thought of administering a whole country."

            "Blessed nightmare, administering and all that!"  The King huffed.

            "To you and I, father, because our minds are not convoluted enough for it, but for Havelock the challenge is like bread to a starving man."

            "If he's so good at it why didn't he do something about the smell?"

            "I asked him about that and he said it was 'civic pride'.  I suggested the aroma must reduce their tourist trade - you need a strong stomach to just get off the boat - and he said it gets worse in summer!  Worse, the gods must smell it on Cori Celesti. He also said that no one was willing to pay the cost of a sewage treatment system."

            "Perhaps that could be the deciding factor.we have wealth enough to finance it."  He mused.  "Offer him the opportunity to make civic improvements in Ankh-Morpork, as well as the opportunity, in a some years time, to rule Avor."  The King paused, chuckling to himself.  "Listen to me; you'd think the offer of the wealthiest country on the Disc and the most beautiful princes, don't blush, would be enough for most men, but here we are trying to think up incentives for the man."

            "Havelock is not 'most men', and that's why we need him."

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

The formal message of Choosing was sent to Havelock Vetinari via a normal sized white eagle - the bird flew to him in the throne room of the palace and dropping a scroll into his hands, it briefly rested on his shoulder (a close observer would have noticed the Patrician wince slightly as the creature's sharp talons broke his skin), it then released his shoulder, flew up - circled once - calling "Avor!" and disappeared.  The clerks and citizens in the room were amazed, the Patrician calmly secreted the scroll in his robe and continued with the work he was doing.

The message was simple once translated from ancient Avorian:  '_The Heir of Avor has Chosen thee as the life partner, thee and they to rule in event of the present Ruler's demise.  Attend the Heir with the greatest haste.'_  Simple and very cold, when he had double-checked his translation for the third time Vetinari felt a wave of resentment, he pushed the dictionaries away from him in anger, his newly injured shoulder complaining.  So she thought she could just order herself a husband and he would have no say in the matter!

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

When the message was confirmed over the clax it fast became a thing of civic gossip: 'Vetinari, the old dog!' 'They can't take our Patrician!' 'What has he been up to, didn't know he had it in him.'  'Money always goes to money.'

The Times headline read:  'Patrician Chosen by Avor Princess.  Our Patrician Beats Other Suitors, Ankh-Morpork Men the Best."

The clacks news reached Vimes, he stormed the Palace.  "Will this, ah, proposal put your life in danger?"

            "Why would it put my life in danger?"  The Patrician asked calmly.

            "No one has ever refused the Choosing, there are dark threats for anyone who does."

            "Who said I would refuse?"

            "Well, the City, you."

            "Do I not seem like the marrying kind Vimes?"

            "Well, no, I."

            "Just last week Sybil was saying that I aught to take a wife."

            "But. the City, you can't leave the City?"

            "No I can't, so some negotiation will have to take place."

            "So you do intend to accept the proposal?"

            "Why would I refuse the richest prize on the Disc?"

Vimes could think of a thousand reasons.

            "And Vimes, this is between you and I - in any negotiation it is essential that the other party does not know your true intention."

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Later, telling Sybil in confidence about the conversation with the 'Chosen' Patrician.

            "So he considers Princess Silana the greatest prize on the Disc, how romantic."

Vimes was shocked.  "I assumed he meant the wealth and magic of Avor."

            "Sam, haven't you noticed how much Havelock has changed since the pirate incident?"

            "He's angrier - there's more rounding up of street musicians."

            "Of course, sure signs of a man in love."

            "Really dear?"  

            "Yes.  Havelock means to marry - I just hope no one gets in his way."

Lying in bed that night listening to Sybil's peaceful breathing.  In the privacy of his own thoughts Sam Vimes' copper's imagination could not help but bring up a moment of suspicion.  Vetinari seemed an unlikely choice for the Princess of Avor - had the Patrician engineered their meeting? And used his 'talents' to impress the girl?  But somehow Vimes could not imagine Vetinari submitting his beloved city to the terror of the pirates. but what if the end justified the means.?  But no, Vetinari was the rock on which Vimes based all of his resentment and loyalty to the city - surely his duplicity was unthinkable.  But Vetinari had been ready with the covert evacuation.  More property had suffered than people.  The destruction was being rebuilt - the city would be a better place after the renewal.  But Vetinari had nearly died - would he take such a risk - unless his plan had got out of hand.  Would Vetinari be that devious, that daring?  The Commander of the Watch slept very badly that night.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Silana and her father sat on the wide gold couch in the castle's audience chamber, robes bright in the afternoon sun as it streamed through the long stained glass windows.  The old man was impressive.  Grey hair and beard trimmed short.  Still tall, broad and powerful, however to the close observer the light sometimes shone right through him when in distracted moments he lost his concentration to fully manifest himself.  At this moment he was concentrating more on the visitor from Ankh than himself, so more of the gold of the throne showed through him than was comfortable for his audience.

Rather than stare rudely the messenger broke the seal on the letter and began to read.  "Lord Havelock Vetinari, Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, sends thanks for your generous offer of marriage, but on this occasion he must decline."  The messenger, Lord Worik Silk of Ankh, had to pause his reading of the message - the letter had been sealed, so until he had broken that seal and begun to read it out loud in the audience chamber of the King of Avor he had no idea just how much librarian pooh his sorry self was in. The big room was overwhelmed by the shocked indrawn breath of the courtiers, even the wolves growled angrily in their throats.  Terrified, Silk looked up at the King and his daughter, wondering if he was about to have his head removed, that bastard Vetinari was paying him back for the last time he opposed him in Council - Silk had thought this mission to the mountains was too good to be true!  To his relief the King and Princess seemed quite calm about the refusal, if the King looked a little vague - literally, the reluctant messenger dared to continue,  ".due to the demands of his duties ruling the city.  Lord Vetinari sends his warmest greetings to Princess Silana and her father the King of Avor, and assures them of the continued friendship of the city of Ankh-Morpork."

            "Thank you Lord Silk, we will compose a response to the Patrician, which we will despatch with you tomorrow, meanwhile please accept the hospitality of Avor."  The old King nodded to one of his men who stepped forward and graciously led the white-faced Lord of Ankh away.  "Lords and Ladies, my daughter and I will now retire to discuss the matter."

            "But the Choosing has never been refused your Highness.."  Lord Pagett was the first to recover.  ".this insult!"  He said, angry on Silana's behalf.

            "No matter, Audice, this is merely the start of the negotiation.  Come Silana."  The Princess took his arm and they left the audience chamber.

In private.  "Well, you were right, round one to Vetinari."  The King said.

            "What should be our next move Father?"

            "I think you should go to him - looking into your eyes I could never deny you anything, I am sure that in person the word 'no' will be much harder for him to say."

            "I think your parental bias may over estimate my irresistibility Father, also I.going to him is akin to begging, it lacks dignity."

            "Do you want the man?"

            "Yes."

            "Then use your womanly wiles and the wealth of Avor to win him and use anything else you can think of.  Remember, there are no rules in love, war and taxes.  Just play to win.  And there is always magic if all else fails."

            "Enchant him?"

            "Yes."

            "No, that is going to far - I want him freely, magic has a tendency to back-fire, if he woke from a love spell in a few years time he would hate me more than I could bear."

            "Good, so this obsession with him knows some bounds."

            "Obsession father?  I want what is best for Avor."

            "And if it satisfies your aching heart at the same time, so much the better eh?"

            "Is it that obvious?"  She sighed, she had tried so hard to hide how she felt, that since coming back from Ankh she thought about Havelock with every waking breath - and with a lot of her dreaming ones as well.  She had tried to make the Choosing purely about what would be best for Avor, not about what would be best for her - knowing in the end Havelock would be best for both.

            "Only to someone who loves you."  He gently cupped her face and looked into her sad eyes.  "Don't worry, that which is worth having is worth fighting for, and by my powers I see you happy and on the throne of Avor with him beside you, so you will win - it will just take a little negotiation."  He patted her arm.  "Now smile, you are looking thin, eat something or you'll loose your energy and not be up to enchanting him..."  She frowned at her father.  ".with your beauty and fine soul."

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Drumknott showed Silana into the Oblong Office, Vetinari had been looking out of the window; he did not turn until the Princess was announced.  He turned feigning surprise at her arrival.

            "Greetings Princess.  That will be all Drumknott."  The clerk departed closing the door behind him.  "It is always a pleasure to see you but I am afraid you have had a wasted journey, as I said in my reply to your summoning.."  He emphasised the word, letting her know he had found the presumptiveness of the ancient message distasteful, she ignored his sarcasm.  ".my duties ruling the city preclude any other involvement."  He said calmly, he indicated a seat in front of his desk and sat in his usual chair opposite her, and was about to give the girl a examining look, as he would any other visitor, when he realised how much faster his heart was beating just from having her in the same room - too dangerous.  He now knew how Vimes' felt when he picked a spot just above the Patrician's left shoulder to stare at - as soon as the girl had entered all he wanted to do was look at her, all he dared do was look anywhere but at her.  

He also realised that his shoulder had stopped aching as soon as she stepped into the room.  "And is this wound on my shoulder some entrapping part of the Choosing?"

Unconsciously she rubbed her own marked shoulder.  "I apologise for that, I did ask father not to do it but he said it was tradition, he first drew my blood on his claws and then brought it to you."

            "Is that why no one ever refuses Avor, because they will die without being near the heir?"

            "Die, no.  Always know where the heir is, yes.  There is nothing dark about it, our blood is joined by the magic of Avor, the wounds heal, but we will always have an affinity for each other's presence, I apologise if that disturbs you but in ancient times it was considered an asset."

            "But I am not to be your husband so it is an unnecessary asset, as your visit here is unnecessary."

            "I was hoping we could negotiate a package acceptable to us both?"  His frown was her answer.  "But no matter, I have business at the Dysk theatre here in Ankh so my journey will not be wasted I assure you."  She smiled and it was that smile and he found a piece of lint on his robe suddenly very interesting.  "Where is.oh there you are."  And she was out of her chair and fussing Wuffles, who, the traitor, was wagging his stumpy tale and behaving as a dog of his advanced year should know better than to.  She was tickling Wuffles tummy, the dog was in eighth heaven, and Vetinari felt jealous both of her instant affinity with his pet and that the dog could accept her attentions when his master could not.

Without looking up from tickling the dog behind the ear she asked "How is Leonard, he wrote to me that he was feeling fully recovered and I sent him some paint brushes, yok hair does make for very fine bristles, I hope he is still well."

            "I visit with him almost every day, he often asks after you, he has finished that head and shoulders portrait he made so many sketches for and has it hanging in his work room, perhaps it should be Leonard you Choose, he is obviously besotted with you."  He said, keeping his voice neutral despite the spite of the comment.

She replied in kind, choosing outwardly not to be offended by his suggestion of casually passing her on to the artist.  "Hhm, not a bad idea, the bloodline of Avor could certainly do with an input of genius, but still I Chose you, and was I hoping you would reconsider."  

            "I am afraid it is out of the question."

            "Have you made a vow never to marry?  Or is it marriage to me that you object to?"  She got up from making his dog happy and returned to the chair opposite Wuffles' unhappy master.

            "Neither, but my city needs me, and nothing you can say can change that fact."

His eyes dripped glaciers - it began to strike home to Silana that everything she felt for Havelock might have blinded her to the sad truth.  Her instincts, contrary to her observations, had told her that Vetinari had felt something for her and with the right circumstances and incentives their relationship could move forward.  "I had hoped you would find some pleasure in our association."  She said.

            "I find pleasure in the thought of order and with the success of Ankh-Morpork."  Vetinari stated.

            "Through your administrators could you not rule both?  A mammoth task I know, but with Avor's wealth - some of Ankh's chronic problems could be alleviated and thus free up part of your time.  And Avor will be part of you, no spy networks required, you would know Avor.  With my country you could make order in both Ankh and Avor."  

            "Rule the greatest city on the Disk and the wealthiest country?  Not impossible."  He mused for her benefit.  Inside he said to himself, '_Finally!_'

At last she saw something in his face, he was considering her offer.  He blinked slowly and said almost to himself.  "What is a little compromise to a Vetinari for the greater good.."  Something congealed inside Silana's chest at the word 'compromise'.  Contrary to her instincts and looking at him now, she had to accept she had been fooling herself about his affections and was being extremely unfair in trying to entrap the man who had saved her life.  However, Vetinari was the ultimate statesman and she just realised he was now acting like a statesman, he was accepting a marriage of convenience with her, she had been wrong, so wrong

Vetinari had continued to speak, ".Ankh-Morpork needs social renewal, I found her built of wood and brick, I would like to leave her swathed in marble.  With the wealth of Avor I could achieve that ambition."  He visibly changed his attitude from cold to welcoming.

His candor did not move her forward, on one level she saw him as a useful tool to help her do a job she knew she was unsuited for, but she also felt a huge affection for the man she had met in the dungeon, but now had to admit that that affection was not reciprocated - despite how desperately she needed it to be.  She asked.  "And to this end you would sacrifice yourself?"  He nodded.  She rose swiftly and moved round the desk.  "Then I withdraw my Choosing,"  She was suddenly reaching towards his injured shoulder; he felt something pull under his flesh even though she had not touched him.  He grabbed her wrist and stood up, but could still feel something tugging under his skin; he pushed her hand out to the side and felt the tugging ease.  "I would not condemn you to such a reluctant relationship."  She tried to twist out of his iron grip.

            "It is my choice."  Her other hand moved and he again felt his unhealed scar pull towards her, so he captured that wrist too and easily held her arms spread with his wiry strength.  This position unfortunately lead to him being intimately close to her and her dangerous green eyes and longed for body.  He tried to maneuver her arms but felt that damned tug in his shoulder the instant her hands got closer, he pushed her against the wall and used that surface to keep her hands distant, her body trapped.  Unfortunately the enforced closeness reminded Vetinari how much he wanted to be with her.  He could see the challenge in her eyes; he took a mental step back and used his mastery of silence against her.

Silana looked into his face and decided he would be the best poker player on the Disk; his expression gave away nothing of his inner thoughts.  "I don't think you truly understand Havelock, this 'relationship' is not for the rest of your mortal life it is for the rest of our reign in Avor.  My country already captures me; I cannot allow someone I care for to be condemned to a near eternity of unhappiness.  Once my father passes, it will not be three score years and ten that you face as 'Servant'* to my country and husband to me, it could be a millennium.  I will not condemn you, you would soon despise me and I'll not give us that future."

            "And if you take the Choosing back."

            "I'll rule alone."

            "And what of my city and her needs?"

            "I'll put in place an education programme and hospitals, your city will not suffer simply because you refused my Choosing, I owe both you and Ankh too much.  As for marble instead of bricks, I suggest an adjustment of taxation.  So let my hands go Havelock, let me free you from Avor. and from me."

He still held her with his body and his eyes.  "I could have pretended, to get what I wanted for Ankh."

            "I am glad you did not, because when Avor passed to us your duplicity would have been revealed and then it would have been too late, we would have had a thousand years to learn to hate each other."

He looked at her, she had stopped struggling in his grasp, but her breathing was still fast, eyes wide with frustration, so close he could smell her perfume, feel her hot breath on his skin.  Green eyes filled with fire, ruby lips parted in a frustrated half snarl - begging to be kissed. he fought his mind back to the true task at hand.  So she was willing to let him go, willing to give him what he wanted and demand nothing in return.  She really did need his help as a stateswoman; Ankh-Morpork was the kind of slut-city who would empty the mines of Avor and still be asking for more.  Silana reminded him a little of Carrot, but Carrot had hidden edges.  Vetinari had a sudden, unexpected pang of nobility, surprised he examined the feeling - some people really do bring out the best in others.  "Why are you so certain we would hate each other, royal marriages are often arranged to each countries' benefit, and often the marriages are successful?"  He asked curiously.

            "When we join with Avor, we join with each other, no hiding, I am certain some level of affection is essential to such a joining.  Havelock, I do not want to spend the rest of my life being detested by you.  I think I have been guilty recently of the last thing a Princess should allow herself to do; I have let my emotions cloud my judgment.  We all need a knight on a white horse to save us at some point in our lives and I saw you as the perfect ruler to help me rule and the perfect lover to help me live, but what I forgot was that I could not be the perfect wife for you because you are already married to your city.  I should never have been so arrogant as to think my affections were echoed in your heart."  

            "And you are now certain they are not?"

            "Yes."  She said reluctantly.

            "So you have stopped being a girl ruled by your heart and become the future ruler of Avor?"

            "Yes."

            "Well, should you not be fighting a little harder for what Avor needs?"

            "?"  She asked with her eyes.

            "I said I would offer you advice on your rule, and my advice is to accept this Vetinari and his city but don't open your coffers to Ankh, trade with her, perhaps give a little civic assistance to help relations after the pirate's visit, but keep her at a distance because she is a selfish bitch and she will take everything you have got, believe me I know."

            "And Vetinari?"

            "Take him because he is not a white knight, however he will give you good council, he'll help you rule but not take on the entire job because despite what you think you want, we have a duty to do what our people need us to do and I think you have it in you to be a wise and beneficial Queen."  His stern features softened into a smile.  "And. he is fond of you."

            "And is 'fond' enough?"

            "Even a journey of a thousand years starts with the first step, we have a little time before your father passes, we can use that time to find out."  He saw her consider this.  "Life is not black and white Silana, most of life is lived in grey shades, it is time to learn to live in the grey of compromise for both of us."

            "I. I am not used to compromise - and I cannot accept it from you."  '_And my time is finite'_ she added to herself.

            "Political compromise is one of the skills you will need to learn before you can rule effectively."

            "If this is to be a lesson in politics can you at least let my wrists go?"  She asked innocently.

The Princess was a fast learner, Vetinari could not read her face, he let her left wrist go and she let the arm drop to her side, then the right and as he stepped back her hand sprang forward with lightening speed - the speed that made her such a good swordswoman - fortunately his assassin's reflexes were just that much faster and he moved her offending hand away but could not suppress the groan of pain as the disturbance of his wounded shoulder sent gouts of pain through his body.  Silana's look of anger turned to one of concern.

            "Havelock, it should not hurt that much, let me see the wound."

            "It does, and I don't think I can trust you anywhere near.."

            "I'll stand away, has a doctor seen it?"  Against his better judgment he decided to show her just how much damage he had suffered because of her damned Choosing.  

            "Very well."  He let go her wrists and took a quick step backwards; she remained still against the wall where he had held her.  He kept a watch on her as he undid the buttons at his collar and chest, he watched her eyes follow his fingers and was reminded of their time in the secret chamber - he forced his mind away from those intimate memories and pulled the material away from his shoulder.

            "Oh, Havelock, the wound is infected, let me."  She took a step forward and he backed away.  She stopped, "Havelock, I give you my word that I will not try to take my Choosing back while I am healing your shoulder, but you must let someone attend you, the poison could spread to your heart and.."  She could not bear to finish the thought.

He slumped down on a divan, he would accept her word until she proved him wrong to do so.  She brought a candelabra and moving a small table and set the candles to get their light on his wound.  Silana came and sat next to him and pulled the material of his robe down.  His shoulder already burnt but his skin burnt more from her touch, he looked away.  "The wound has not been cleaned, I can see threads of cloth in it, Havelock even a mystical wound needs to be dressed, no wonder you are in so much pain."

Blue eyes came up and met green.  "And you claim this is not part of the Choosing? 'Come to the heir or die..'"

            "No."  Undoing ribbons she pulled her dress away from her own shoulder and showed him the healed scar of the eagle's claws.  "Perhaps in your grey world you see too much evil in others."  She locked gazes with him, and felt that old attraction, she forced her eyes back to his shoulder, pale ivory skin inflamed and discoloured - she was glad she had come to him, if left, truly the infection could have killed him.  "Have you.have you any of the magic salve we used?"

            "In that cabinet."  She fetched the box, put it beside her and began opening more of his buttons.  He remained silent, eyes on her hands, still not trusting.  She slipped the robe off of both his shoulders to his waist, Vetinari swiftly freed his hands.  He watched her eyes linger on his nakedness, he understood that longing - he had had to guard his own thoughts when she had exposed her shoulder, he had so wanted to reach out and.

She opened the jar and with gentle fingers spread the softly glowing ointment on and around the angry wound.  Once finished she passed him an octodroplet and picking up the box put it back in the cupboard - she remained at the cupboard and watched him stand, holding his robe in place and smash the other part of the spell, despite her distance the magic sought her fingers where the cream had touched her skin and she felt that same all pervasive tingling.  The closed eyed look of Havelock as he took the full force of the magic captivated her as she saw him struggle not to revel in the sensation.

She timed it perfectly and had her hand on his healed shoulder as the magic faded and began her own magic.  He reacted violently when he realised what she was doing - he felt some of what was in him leave before he managed to grab her hands and push her against the wall, nearly stumbling as his robe fell away.  "Let me decide."  He said in cold fury, he had not really trusted her but she had exploited that one moment of vulnerability.  "You have had your chance to Choose, let me choose to accept that Choosing."

            "No, not reluctantly, not as a servant to your city."  Silana spat back, eyes blazing, struggling in his grasp until she realised his nudity, then she gasped and froze, colour rising to her cheeks.

His lips were on hers, between the octodroplet and his wish to stop the fight his body had almost made the decision for him.  For a brief second she returned his kiss until her mind overcame her need for his touch and she turned her mouth away.  His strong body imprisoned her, she struggled as he maneuvered both her hands behind her and held both wrists in his long fingers.  "You know you want this."  He said capturing her mouth and holding her head to him with his now freed hand.  For a few heartbeats she tried to fight him, thinking of biting him, but every cell of her body had ached for him for so long that she did not want to resist his embrace.  Her mouth answered his and she arched her body to him.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

Afterwards, lying close on the divan, Vetinari found the breath to speak.  "Did that seem reluctant?"

            "No."  Silana sighed, for the first time in an age at peace with herself.  Her cheek resting on his chest she listened to the beating of his heart, gradually slowing from his wonderful exertions. 

            "Was that the passion of a servant?"  He asked.

            "You could be a very good actor."  Silana just wanted to enjoy the moment, not argue with Havelock, but she brought herself up on one elbow to look at him, ".as well as a very good lover."  She couldn't help but smile, his eyes had softened and lost their normal hardness in the aftermath of their joining.

            "You said that there should be 'some affection' well I do have feelings for you."

            "But not. I know I should not expect love, the demands of my duty proscribe love, but. you say that Ankh-Morpork is a whore, well I don't want you selling yourself for her, I want you to want me, not do for me what I demand so you can have what you want for your city, I don't want your affection to be negotiable."

Her words had hardened his eyes again, but something different glowed in their blue depths, "Before you came into my life I was considering that if an heir to the Vetinari family was to be produced that I would need to marry soon."  He confessed reluctantly.  

"Had you chosen a suitable bride?"  She tried to remain calm but.'_Couldn't the damn man just for once be passionate for passion's sake_!'  She thought to herself.  

"No."

"But now you think I could fulfill that role."  He nodded.  "Again, not enough Havelock, we just made love but your sensual expertise is just another one of your tools of state."  

"What would convince you?"

"Nothing.  I think you are a victim of your own success - you can't stop being a statesman long enough to be a human being.  You have just used yourself to convince me - and I can't allow you to use yourself."  A sad tear welled unshed in her eye, it reminded him of their parting after the night she had first played her music for him.

"Shall I list why you are a desirable match for me, not for Ankh, just purely for me, for my needs?"  He asked.  Fascinated at this new tack she supported her head on one hand and looked into his eyes, hoping in them to catch if he was not truthful.  She nodded for him to proceed.  "When we marry I can hear your music as often as you will play."  She started to deny the value but he put a gentle finger to her lips, and kept it there, this was his moment.  ".and don't undervalue your music - you have an extraordinary gift.  As a Princess you have the diplomatic training to 'handle' the fine citizens of Ankh and visiting ambassadors - you might even enjoy the social occasions that I find tedious."  Behind his restraining finger she reluctantly nodded - he took his hand away now she seemed to have learnt the procedure.  "With your fighting skills and other training, you will have a reasonable chance to defend yourself against those that wish me ill.  You are intelligent and beautiful and people like you, your glamour can only add to my own prestige.  The benefits of marrying Avor are obvious.  And the benefits of marrying someone for whom I have a great passion are.."  He let feeling husk into his voice and kissed her, holding her to him and letting his body speak to hers.  

Eventually he broke the kiss, leaving her breathless.  "And, my dog likes you."  At that he smiled, and she couldn't help but smile back.  "So you see, I personally will benefit immensely by taking you Silana to my hearth and home and office and bed.and of love, give me time - I too, never thought to love my mate - it is a new skill that you will need to teach my heart."

"I."  He heard the denial in the first moment of the sentence.

"Learn to live in the grey world Silana."  He interrupted.

"I. Avor. we need you Havelock, if you sincerely feel as you say then. I can accept you. but I still have doubts."  She looked like a lost child

"Give us time."  He said, she frowned but nodded.  

"Now to practicalities.  With some financial input from Avor I can, as you say, solve some chronic problems and gain some of my time to help your rule - however I think teaching you to rule would be more practical and by empowering you my input can diminish.  I think you've inherited a fear of it because your father does not particularly enjoy that part of the job of monarch."  Silana frowned doubtfully, but at Havelock's raised eyebrow she had to nod in agreement.  "I suggest we spend winter and spring together in Ankh and summer and autumn in the more clement weather of Avor - this has the added benefit of avoiding the worst seasons of the Ankh aroma - to which you object.  With modern clacks communications we can keep in touch with both and I suggest an immediate road improvement scheme to expedite travel and trade."  Silana raised her eyebrow at his presumtiveness - her eyebrows shot threw her hairline with his next statement.  "If we marry in early summer the baby can be born in wedlock and you can have your lying-in in late summer in Avor, and."

            "Baby?"

            "My baby that you have not been telling me you are carrying."

            "I didn't want to influence. and nobody knew but my father and.

"I have taken a particular interest in your welfare."  He said rubbing his newly healed shoulder.

"I haven't agreed to marry you yet!"

            "I have a feeling you will agree.."  He kissed her to demonstrate the benefits of agreeing.

            "Havelock, just how much of the last 2 hours was planned by you?"  She asked astonished and wary of her new mate.

His smile could only be described as evil innocence.

THE END

* Silana referred to Vetinari's work in progress "The Servant".


End file.
